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POETICAL WORKS 



GEORGE HERBERT 



REGINALD HEBEE, 



WITH MEMOIRS, 



Qici^t (JngraoingS on Steel. 



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€tJtnburg]b.* 

GALL & IXGLIS. 6 GEORGE STREET. 

LONDON • HOULSTON <fe WRIGHT. 






387270 
»29 



POETICxlL WORKS 



GEOEGE HERBERT, 



WITH "MEMOIR. 



MEMOIR OF GEOEGE HEEBEET. 



Geoege Herbert was born on the 3d April 1598, at the 
ancient seat of the family, Montgomery Castle. George was 
the fifth of seven sons ; the eldest, Edward, was ennobled by 
the first Charles, and is known in history and philosophy as 
Lord Cherbury, author of " De Yeritate pront distinguitur," 
a Revelatione, a work aiming to prove that natural religion 
is a perfect guide to "the whole duty of man." The father 
of George Herbert dying when he was but four years of age, 
the discipline and education of the child henceforth specially 
devolved upon his mother, a woman celebrated at once for 
her beauty and her worth, who devoted herself with the 
most zealous care to the godly upbringing of her family. 
At the age of twelve, George passed from beneath the 
maternal roof to Westminster School, where, under the 
tuition of the masters of that institution, he shone no less 
in wit than wisdom. His classical attainments, especially 
in Greek, secured his election, at the early age of fifteen, to 
Trinity College, Cambridge. George had already given 
earnest of the tendency of his mind to his pious mother ; 
but knowing the snare a university so often proves to the 
susceptible heart of youth, and anxious that the fair promise 
should not be withered by the frosts of vice, the good woman 
recommended him to the special charge of the Master of 
tlic College, Dr Nevil, then Dean of Canterbury. The Dean 
proved to him a second father. 



MEMOIR OP GEORGE HERBERT. 



In the first year of his university career, George sent 
a New Tear's gift to his mother ; a pious sonnet, accom-i 
panied by the assurance of his resolution to consecrate 
all he was all he had, to God's glory. Few early vows are 
so well performed. In 1615 he became a Master of Arts, 
and in 1619 Orator for the University. In the riot of uni- 
versity life George Herbert had no share. While his fellows 
were haunting the house of mirth, he communed with the 
mighty dead, or perchance relaxed severer studies by prac- 
tising on the lute. Like Milton, Herbert was passionately 
fond of music. Companions, in the ordinary sense of the term, 
he had none ; save when Dr Nevil sometimes broke in upon 
his labours, the solitude of his study was rarely ever invaded. 
The author of the " Temple " lived to regret this early iso- 
lation, which, though it kept him pure, severed him from 
the sympathies of his kind ; keeping him shy, reserved, 
aloof from human life. Some eminent critics have not 
scrupled to express their dissent from the poet's criticism 
on the tenor of his young life, expressing their conviction 
that it was well it was even so. Without disputing that 
such a lifs was peculiarly fitted to develop the meditative 
element in his nature, yet, looking at the special character- 
istics of Herbert's poetry, he would, we think, have profited 
by a wider intercourse with the world. 

Herbert continued Orator of the University for eight years. 
During his period of o£5cc, our Scottish Solomon, James, 
sent Cambridge one of the efi'usions of his pedant mind, 
Basilicon Doron. It was Herbert's duty to thank the royal 
author for his gift. He did so in a style that completely 
fascinated the monarch, who pronounced him " the jewel 
of the University." A sinecure of £120 a-year, that Sir 
Philip Sidney formerly held from Elizabeth, was bestowe(J 
on Herbert, as a mark of James's special grace. In the sun-- 
shine of royal favour, the holy Herbert felt the stirrings of 
worldly ambition : he aspired to be a secretary of state. To 
qualify himself for that position, he set about the study of 
the modern tongues of the Continent. Wherever the Court i 



MEMOIR OF GEORGE nERBERT. VU 

now was, there, says an old biograplier, Herbert never failed 
to come. The king's death, to which may be added the 
deaths of the Duke of Eichmond, the Marquis of Hamilton, 
and other powerful friends, laid these hopes in the dust. 
Retiring from London to Kent, after a severe conflict be- 
tween the kindling taste for court life and the study of theo- 
logy, Herbert, submissive to his mother's pious wish, de- 
voted himself to the Church.' Within a year from the forma- 
tion of this resolution he took deacon's orders, and in July 
1626 was appointed Prebendary of " Layton Ecclesia," in 
the diocese of Lincoln. Three years after his settlement at 
Layton he was seized with a " quotidian ague," which, 
though recovered from by strict attention to dietary arrange- 
ments, seemed to have developed the seeds of pulmonary 
disease. Subsequently, however, he removed to Dauntsey, 
in Wiltshire, where his health became so completely estab- 
lished that he resolved to take priest's orders and to marry. 
t had been a long wish of Herbert's mother to see her son 
thus situated, but death deprived her of the pleasure. She 
died in 1627. 

Charles Danvers had a family of nine daughters. Often 
liad he expressed a desire that Mr Herbert should marry 
one of them. Jane was the name of the beloved of the 
tamily, and it was specially her on whom Danvers desired 
that the choice of Mr Herbert should fall. The match had 
been so often talked over to Herbert and Jane, that they 
already loved, while yet they had not seen each other. 
After a three days' acquaintance the marriage was consum- 
mated. Some marry in a hurry, only to rue at leisure ; but 
Herbert's marriage was of the happiest. Old Walton has 
Vteautifully said of it, " The eternal lover of mankind made 
^hem happy in each other's mutual and equal affection and 
compliance ; indeed, so happy that there never was any oppo- 
sition betwixt them, unless it was a contest which shouM most 
incline to a compliance with the other's desires." Shortly 
subsequent to this most felicitous union, the rectory of 
Bemerton was presented to him by the Earl of Pembroke. 



MEMOIR OF GEORGE HERBERT. 



On the 26th April 1630, in the thirty-sixth year of his age, 
he was inducted to its sacred duties. The night of his in- 
duction he told his friend Mr Woodmot, that "he was sure 
to live well, because the virtuous life of a clergyman is the 
most powerful eloquence to persuade all that see it to rever- 
ence and love, and at least to desire to live like him ;" adding, 
" We live in an age that hath more need of good examples 
than precepts." The sword and silks of the courtier were 
now flung aside for the pastoral staff and the canonical coat, 
and the short term of existence that remained to the holy 
man was devoted to the earnest and enthusiastic service of 
his Master. His own beautiful strain will best describe for 
us this brief day of " Christian life : " — 

" Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright. 
The bridal of the earth and sky." 

To pity the distressed and remember the forgotten, was 
Herbert's chief employment at Bemerton. His preaching 
was practical, in the best sense of the word. "With his soul's 
soul he strove to be a genuine Christian priest. He was 
little more than two years in his parish. When he went 
there he found religion little more than a form — he left it 
a thing of life. Twice every day he, together with his wife 
and family, went to prayers. In a short time a large pro- 
portion of his parishioners followed his example. " While 
Mr Herbert's saints' bell rung," the plough was left in mid- 
furrow, the good man's blessing being deemed more than 
an equivalent for the rest from toil. 

Music was Herbert's principal recreation ; the hymns and 
anthems he composed were set and sung by himself to the 
lute or viol. Twice every week he wallced to Salisbury 
Cathedra], to enjoy its majestic organ and magnificent choir. 
Severely simple in his habits, his charity was bounded only 
by his resources. While the spirit of the "good priest" 
was thus " meetening for the inheritance of the saints in 
life," the earthly house was dissolving. That disease of which 
ague had left the seeds now developed itself with fearful 
rapidity. Still, though confined to his house, he continued 



- 



MEMOIR or GEORGE HERBERT. 



to conduct the services of the sanctuary, until lie became sc 
weak that he was compelled to call in the assistance of 
brother clergyman. 

Mr Herbert's friends knew him to be in the habit o, 
composing, but no one suspected the existence of " The 
Temple," until on his deathbed he handed Mr Duncan a 
little book, with instructions to deliver it to his dear brother 
Ferrar. " Tell him," said the dying poet, " he shall find 
in it a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that have 
passed between God and my soul, before I could subject 
mine to the will of Jesus my master, in whose service I have 
now found perfect freedom. Desire him to read it, and then, 
if he can think it may turn to the advantage of any dejected 
poor soul, let it be made public ; if not let him burn it, for I 
and it are less than the least of God's mercies." The inspira- 
tion of the " good hope through grace" cheered the last days 
of Herbert. In the closing hours of life the dreams of his 
youthful ambition rose before his soul — rose only to give 
him a glimpse of their nothingness. The Sabbath before 
his death he called for his lute, and to its strains he com- 
posed a portion of his beautiful hymn " Sanday." On his 
death-day he expressed his sorrow that he had " nothing 
to present to God but sin and misery ; but," said he, " the 
first is pardoned, and a few hours will put a period to the 
second." The words "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!" were 
the closing aspiration of the sainted son of genius. A few 
minutes after their faint and feeble utterance, " mortality 
was swallowed up of life." 

From an imperfect conception of the character of this poet 
of the sanctuary, he has been set down by many as a mere 
religious recluse, to whom all else than something bordering 
upon cloister life was unknown. Never was there a greater 
mistake. His prose and verse alike abound with the maxims 
of a shrewd common sense. In this respect we trace a con- 
siderable resemblance between Herbert and a later religious 
poet — Cowper. The author of "The Task," like the author 
of " The Temple," retired from the world, carrying into hi? 



MEMOIR OF GEORGE HERBERT. 



retirement a keenly observant faculty, which seemed only 
to gather acuteness from being sequestered from the din 
and bustle of life. The astuteness of the following passages 
from the Church Porch of "The Temple" is seen at a 
glance : — 

" Some great estates provide, but do not breed 
A masteriug mind ; so both are lost thereby." 

" The way to make thy son rich is to fill 
His mind with rest, before his tmnk with riches ; 
For wealth without contentment climbs a hiU 
To feel these tempests which fly 0\^ev ditches," 

" Nothing can need a lie : 
A fault which needs it most grows two thereby." 

" Spend not on hopes." 

These gems, culled at random from a few pages of Her- 
bert's poetry, show the richness of the treasure to which the 
reader's attention is invited. Sometimes the mould in 
which the poetry is cast — the dress of the thought — may seem 
a little antiquated. But if the outward form appear on oc- 
casion mean, the meanness reaches no further : all is glorious 
within. "With this conviction we invite attention to these 
works of sacred art, which, though in recent years receiving 
more attention than in times long past, have, we are per- 
suaded, never obtained that place in the family circle and 
Christian household tiieir pre-eminent merit so well entitle 
them to occupy. 



CONTENTS. 




POEMS. 
J. The Temple, . 


PAGE 
1 


A Dialogue-Anthem, . 




148 


A Parodie, 




IGO 


A True Hymne, 




146 


A Wreath, . 




162 


Affliction, 




35, 49, 59, 74, 80 


Anagram, 




63 


An Offering, . 




127 


Antiphon, 




41,76 


Aaron, 




152 


Artillerie, 




119 


Assurance, 




134 


Avarice, 




62 


Bitter-Sweet, . 




149 


Businesse, 




95 


Charms and Knots, . 




80 


Christmas, 




66 


Church-Lock and Key, 




53 


Church-Monuments, . 




51 


Church-Musick, 




52 


Chm'ch-Rents and Schismes, . 


120 





I 


%\i CONTEXTS. 






PAGE 


Clasping of Hands, 


136 


Coloss. iii. 3, " Our Life is Md with Christ in God," 69 | 


Complaining, .... 


123 


Confession, .... 


107 


Conscience, . , . . 


88 


Constancie, .... 


58 i 


Content, . . . . 


54 I 


Death, .... 


162 


Decay, .... 


82 


Deniall, . . . ' . 


65 


Dialogue, ..... 


96 


Discipline, .... 


156 i 


Divinitie, .... 


115 


Dooms-day, .... 


163 


Dotage, .... 


145 


Dulnesse, ..... 


97 


Easter, .... 


31 


Easter -Wings, . . • . 


32 


Employment, .... 


44,64 


Ephes. iv. 30, " Grieve not the Holy Spirit," 


&c., 116 


Even- Song, . . 


50 


Faith, ..... 


38 


Erailtie, .... 


57 


Giddinesse, .... 


108 ' 


Good Friday, .... 


28 ' 


Grace, .... 


47 jj 


Gratefulnesse, 


105 1 


Grief, ...... 


142 ;! 


Heaven, .... 


164 j 
32,33 ,, 


Holy Baptisme, 


1 Home, ..... 


9U 


N 





CONTENTS. Xiii 


PAGE 


Hope, 103 


Humilitie, 










56 


Jesu, . 










94 


Jordan, 










. 44, 85 


Joseph's Coat, 








,- 


138 


Judgement, 










164 


Justice, 










79, 121 


Lent, . 










71 


Life, . 










78 


Longing, 










128 


Love, . 










. 41, 165 


Love-Joy, 










98 


Love Unknown, 








110 


Man, . 


\ 






75 


Man's Medley, 








112 


Marie Magdalene, 








151 


Mattens, 








49 


Miserie, 










83 


Mortification, 










81 


Nature, 










33 


Obedience, 










87 


Paradise, 










113 


Peace, . 










106 


Praise, 








4J 


3, 126, 137 


Prayer, 










39, 86. 


Providence, 










98 


I Redemption, 










29 


i Repentance, . 










37 


Self-Condemnation, 








148 


Sepulchre, 








30 


Sighs and Groans, 








68 


i 













XIV 



CONTENTS. 



Sinne, 

Sinne's Round, 

Sion, . 

Submission, 

Sunday, 

Superliminare, 

The Agonie, 

The Altar, 

The Answer, 

The Bag, 

The Banquet, 

The British Church, 

The Bunch of Grapes, 

The Call, 

The Church-Floore, 

The Church-Porch, 

The Collar, . 

The Crosse, 

The Dawning, 

The Discharge, 

The Elixer, . 

The Familie, . 

The Flower, . 

The Foil, 

The Forerunners, 

The Glance, . 

The Glimpse, . 

The Holdfast, . 

The Holy Communion 

The Holy Scriptures, 

The Invitation, 



1 

1 CONTENTS. 


X. 




PAGE 


The Jews, .... 


132 


The Method, . 


114 


The Odour, . 


152 


The Pearl, .... 


73 


The Pilgrimage, 


122 


ThePosie, .... 


159 


The Priesthood, 


139 


The Pulley, .... 


138 


The Quidditie, 


65 


The Quip, .... 


93 


The Reprisall, 


27 


The Rose, .... 


155 


The Sacrifice, .... 


18 


The Search, .... 


140 


The Sinner, .... 


28 


The Size, .... 


118 


The Sonne, . 


146 


TheStarre .... 


59 


The Storm, .... 


113 


The Temper, .... 


. 42, 43 


The Thanksgiving, . • . 


25 


The Twenty-Third Psalme, . 


150 


The Water-Course, . 


148 


The Windows, 


63 


The World, .... 


69 


Tune, 


104 


To all Angels and Saints, 


63 


Trinitie Sunday, . . . . 


54 


Ungratefulnesse, . . . , 


67 


Unkindnesse, . . . , . 


77 


Vanitie, . . . . 


70,93 



X71 CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Vertue, ..... 72 

Whitsunday, . , . . . 46 

II. The Church Militant, ... 166 

L'Envoy, . . . . .173 

Miscellaneous Poems — 

A Sonnet to his Mother, . . . 174 

Inscription in the Parsonage, Bemerton, . 175 

On Lord Danvers, . . . . 175 

A Paradox, . " . . . . 1 75 



PROSE. 

A Priest to the Temple; or, the Country Parson, 177 

The Author's Prayer before Sermon, . 242 

Prayer after Sermon, .... 244 

Jacula Prudentum, .... 245 

Letters, ...... 280 

A Treatise of Temperance and Sobriety, . 290 

The Oration of Master George Herbert, . 303 
Preface and Notes to the Divine Considerations 

of John Valdesso, . . 304 




/ 



I THE TEMPLE. 



THE DEDICATION. 

Lord, my first fruits present themselves to thee; 
Yet not mine neither: for from thee they came, 
And must return. Accept of them and me. 
And make us strive, who shall sing best thy name. 

Turn their eyes hithe?; who shall make a gain; 

Theirs, who shall hurt themselves or me, refrain. 



THE CHURCH-PORCH. 

PERIRRHANTERIUM. 

Thou, whose sweet youth and early hopes inhance 
Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure, 
Hearken unto a Verser, who may chance 
Ryme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure : 

A verse may finde him who a sermon flies, 

And turn delight into a sacrifice. 

Beware of lust ; it doth pollute and foul 

Whom God in baptisme washt with his own blood : 

It blots thy lesson written in thy soul ; 

The holy lines cannot be understood. 
How dare those eyes upon a Bible look, 
Much lesse towards God, whose lust is all their book ! 

Abstain wholly, or wed. Thy bounteous Lord 

Allows thee choise of paths : take no by-wayes ; 

But gladly welcome wliat he doth afford ; 

Not grudging, that thy lust hath bounds and stales. 
Continence hath his joy : weigh both ; and so 
If rottennesse have more, let Heaven go. 



HERBERT S POEMS. 



If €rod had laid all common, certainly 

Man would have been th' incloser : but since now 

God hath impal'd us, on the contrarie 

Man breaks the fence, and every gTOund will plough. 

what were man, might he himself misplace ! 

Sure to be crosse he would shift feet and face. 

Drink not the third glasse, which thou canst not tame, 
When once it is within thee ; but before 
Mayst rule it, as thou list : and pom-e the shame, 
"Which it woidd poure on thee, upon the floore. 
It is most just to throw that on the ground, 
Which would throw me there, if I keep the round. 
He that is drunken, may his mother kill 
Bigge with his sister : he hath lost the reins, 
Is out] aw' d by himself: all kinde of ill 
Did with his liquor slide into his veins. 
The drunkard forfets Man, and doth devest 
All worldly right, save what he hath by beast. 

Shall I, to please another's wine-sprung minde, 
Lose all mine own? God hath giv'n me a measure 
Short of his canne, and bodie ; must T finde 
A pain in that, wherein he findes a pleasiu-e ? 
Stay at the third glasse : if thou lose thy hold, 
Then thou art modest, and the wine grows bold. 

If reason move not Gallants, quit the room ; 
(All in a shipwrack shift their severall way) 
Let not a common ruine thee intombe: 
Be not a beast in courtesie, but stay. 

Stay at the third cup, or forego the place. 

Wine above all things doth God's stamp deface. 

Yet, if thou sinne in wine or wantonnesse. 

Boast not thereof ; nor make thy shame thy glorie. 

Frailtie gets pardon by submissivenesse; 

But he that boasts, shuts that out of his storie : 
He makes flat warre with God, and doth defie 
With his poore clod of earth tlie spacious sky. 



THE CHTJRCH-PORCH. 



Take not his name, who made thy month, in vain : 
It gets thee nothing, and hath no excuse. 
Lust and wine plead a pleasure, avarice gain : 
But the cheap swearer through his open since 
Lets his soul runne for nought, as little fearing : 
Were I an Epicure, I could bate swearing. 

When thou dost tell another's jest, therein 
Omit the oathes, which true wit cannot need : 
Pick out of tales the mirth, but not the sinne. 
He pares his apple, that will cleanly feed. 
Play not away the vertue of that name. 
Which is thy best stake, when griefs make thee tame. 

The cheapest sinnes most dearly punisht are ; 

Because to shun them also is so cheap : 

For we have wit to mark them, and to spare. 

crumble not away thy soul's fair heap. 
If thou wilt die, the gates of hell are broad : 
Pride and full sinnes have made the way a road. 

Lie not ; but let thy heart be true to God, 
Thy mouth to it, thy actions to them both : 
Cowards tell lies, and those that fear the rod ; 
The stormie working soul spits lies and froth. 
Dare to be true. Nothing can need a ly : 
A fault, which needs it most, grows two thereby. 

Flie idlenesse, which yet thou canst not flie 
By dressing, mistressing, and complement. 
If those take up thy day, the sunne will crie 
Against thee ; for his light was onely lent. 
God gave thy soul brave wings; put not those feathers 
Into a bed, to sleep out aU ill weathers. 

Art thou a Magistrate ? then be severe : 
If studious ; copie fair what time hath blurr'd ; 
Redeem truth from his jawes : if souldier, 
Chase brave employments with a naked sword 



HERBERT S POEMS. 



Throughout the world. Fool not ; for all may have, 
If they dare try, a glorious life, or grave. 

England ! full of sinne, but most of sloth ; 
Spit out thy flegme, and fill thy breast with glorie : 
Thy Grentrie bleats, as if thy native cloth 
Transfus'd a sheepishnesse into thy storie : 
Not that they all are so ; but that the most 
Are gone to grasse, and in the pasture lost. 

This losse springs chiefly from our education. 
Some till their ground, but let weeds choke their sonne : 
Some mark a partridge, never their childes fasliion : 
Some ship them over, and the thing is done. 

Studie this art, make it thy great designe ; 

And if God's image move thee not, let thine. 

Some great estates provide, but do not breed 
A mast'ring minde ; so both are lost thereby : 
Or els they breed them tender, make them need 
All that they leave : this is flat povertie. 
For he, that needs five thousand pounds to live 
Is full as poore as he, that needs but five. 

The way to make thy sonne rich, is to fill 
His minde with rest, before his trmik with riches : 
For wealth without contentment, climbes a hill, 
To feel those tempests, which fly over ditches. 
But if thy sonne can make ten pound his measure, 
Then all thou addest may be call'd his treasure. 

When thou dost pm-pose ought, (within thy power) 
Be sure to doe it, though it be but small : 
Constancie knits the bones, and makes us stoAvre, 
When wanton pleasures becken us to thrall. 
Who breaks his own bond, forfeiteth himself : 
What nature made a ship, he makes a shelf. 

Doe all things like a man, not sneakingly : 
Think the king sees thee still ; for his Kmg does. 



THE CHURCH-PORCH. 



Simpring is but a lay-hypocrisie : 

Give it a comer, and the clue undoes. 
Who fears to do ill, sets hunself to tasK : 
Who fears to do well, sure should wear a mask. 

Look to thy mouth : diseases enter there. 
Thou hast two sconces, if thy stomach call ; 
Carve, or discoiu:se ; do not a famine fear. 
Who carves, is kind to two ; who talks, to all. 

Look on meat, think it dirt, then eat a bit ; 

And say withall, Earth to earth I commit. 

Slight those who say amidst their sickly healths, 
Thou liv'st by rale. What doth not so, but man ? 
Houses are built by rule, and common-Avealths. 
Entice the trusty sunne, if that you can. 

From his Ecliptick line ; becken the skie. 

Who lives by rule then, keeps good companie. 

Who keeps no giiard upon himself, is slack, 
And rots to nothing at the next gTeat thaw. 
Man is a shop of rules, a well-truss' d pack, 
Whose every parcell mider- writes a law. 
Lose not thyself, nor give thy humom's way : 
God gave them to thee under lock and key. 

By all means use sometimes to be alone. 

Salute thyself: see what thy soul doth wear. 

Dare to look in thy chest ; for 'tis thine own : 

And tumble up and down what thou find'st there. 
Who cannot rest till he good fellows finde. 
He breaks up house, turns out of doores his minde. 

Be thi'iftie, but not covetous : therefore give 

Thy need, thine honom-, and thy friend his due. 

Never was scraper brave man. Get to live ; 

Then live, and use it : else, it is not true 
That thou hast gotten. Surely use alone 
Makes money not a contemptible stone. 



HERBERT S POiSMS. 



Never exceed thy income. Youth may make 
Ev'n with the yeare : but age, if it will hit, 
Shoots a bow short, and lessens still his stake. 
As the day lessens, and his life with it. 

Thy children, kindred, friends upon thee call ; 

Before thy journey fairly part with all. 

Yet in thy thiiving still misdoubt some evil ; 

Lest gaining gaui on thee, and make thee dimme 

To all things els. Wealth is the conjurer's devU ; 

Whom when he thinks he hath, the devil hath him. 
Gold thou mayst safely touch ; but if it stick 
Unto thy hands, it woundeth to the quick. 

What skills it, if a bag of stones or gold 

About thy neck do drown thee ? raise thy head ; 

Take starres for money ; starres not to be told 

By any art, yet to be piurchased. 
None is so wastefull as the scraping dame : 
She loseth thi-ee for one ; her soul, rest, fame. 

By no means runne in debt; take thine own measure. 
Who cannot live on twentie pound a yeare. 
Cannot on fourtie : he's a man of pleasure, 
A kinde of thing that's for itself too deere. 
The curious mithrift makes his cloth too wide. 
And spares himself, but would his taylor chide. 

Spend not on hopes. They that by pleading clothes 
Do fortunes seek, when worth and service fail. 
Would have their tale beleeved for their oathes, 
And are like empty vessels under sail. 
Old comtiers know this ; therefore set out so, 
As all the day thou mayst hold out to go. 

In clothes, cheap handsomnesse doth bear the belL 
Wisdome's a trimmer thing, than shop ere gave. 
Say not then, This with that lace will do well ; 
But, This with my discretion will be brave. 



THE CHURCH-POKCH. 



Much cmioiisnesse is a perpetual wooing, 
Nothing with labour, folly long a doing. 

Play not for gain, but sport. Who playes for more, 
Than he can lose with pleasure, stakes his heart : 
Perhaps his wives too, and whom she hath bore : 
Servants and chm'ches also play their part. 
Onely a herauld, who that way doth passe, 
Findes his crackt name at length in the church-gla sse. 

If yet thou love game at so deere a rate. 
Learn this, that hath old gamesters deerely cost : 
Dost lose ? rise up : dost winne ? rise in that state. 
Who strive to sit out losing hands, are lost. 
Game is a civil gimpowder, in peace 
Blowing up houses with their whole increase. 

In conversation boldnesse now bears sway. 

But know, that nothing can so foolish be, 

As empty boldnesse : therefore first assay 

To stufife thy mind with solid braverie ; 
Then march on gallant : get substantiall worth : 
Boldnesse guilds finely, and will set it forth. 

Be sweet to all. Is thy complexion sowre ? 

Then keep such companie ; make them thy aUay : 

Get a sharp wife, a servant that will lowre. 

A stumbler stumbles least in rugged way. 
Command thyself in chief. He life's warre knows. 
Whom all his passions follow, as he goes. 

Catch not at quarrels. He that dares not speak 
Plainly and home, is coward of the two. 
Think not thy fame at ev'ry twitch will break : 
By great deeds shew, that thou canst little do ; 

And do them ipiot : that shall thy wisdome be ; 

And change thy temperance into braverie. 

If that thy fame with ev'ry toy be pos'H, 

'Tis a thinne web, which poysonous fancies make ; 



10 Herbert's poems. 



But the great souldiers honoiu' was compos'd 
Of thicker stuffe, which would endure a shake. 

Wisdome picks friends ; civilitie playes the rest. 

A toy shunn'd cleanly passeth with the best. 

Laugh not too much : the wittie man laughs least : 

For wit is newes only to ignorance. 

Lesse at thine own things laugh ; lest in the jest 

Thy person share, and the conceit advance. 
Make not thy sport, abuses : for the fly, 
That feeds on dung, is coloured thereby. 

Pick out of mirth, like stones out of thy ground, 

Profanenesse, filthinesse, abusivenesse. 

These are the scumme, with which course wits aboimd; 

The fine may spare these well, yet not go lesse. 
All things are bigge with j est : nothing that ' s plain 
But may be wittie, if thou hast the vein. 

Wit's an um'uly engine, wildly striking 
Sometimes a friend, sometimes the engineer : 
Hast thou the knack ? pamper it not with liking : 
But if thou want it, buy it not too deere. 
Many affecting wit beyond their power. 
Have got to be a deare fool for an hom'e. 

A sad wise valoiu: is the brave complexion, 
That leads the van, and swallows up the cities. 
The gigier is a milk-maid, whom infection. 
Or a fir'd beacon frighteth from his ditties. 
Then he's the sport: the mirth then in him rests. 
And the sad man is cock of all his jests. 

Towards great persons use respective boldnesse : 
That temper gives them theirs, and yet doth take 
Nothing from thine : in service, care, or coldnesse 
Doth ratably thy fortunes marre or make. 
Feed no man in his sinnes : for adulation 
Doth make thee parcell-devil in damnation. 



THE CHURCH-PORCH. 1] 

Envie not greatnesse: for thou mak'st thereby 
Thyself the worse, and so the distance gTeater. 
Be not thine own worm : yet such jealousie, 
As hurts not others, but may make thee better, 

Is a good spurre. Correct thy passion's spite ; 

Then may the beasts draw thee to happy light. 

When basenesse is exalted, do not bate 
The place its honour, for the person's sake. 
The shrine is that which thou dost venerate ; 
And not the beast, that bears it on his back. 

I care not though the cloth of state should be 

Not of rich arras, but mean tapestrie. 

Thy friend put in thy bosome : wear his eies 
Still in thy heart, that he may see what's there. 
If cause require, thou art his sacrifice ; 
Thy drops of bloud must pay down all his fear ; 

But love is lost ; the way of friendship's gone ; 

Though David had his Jonathan, Christ his John. 

Yet be not surety, if thou be a father. 

Love is a personall debt. I cannot give 

My children's right, nor ought he take it : rather 

Both friends should die, than hinder them to live. 

Fathers first enter bonds to Nature's ends ; 

And are her sm^eties, ere they are a friend's. 

If thou be single, all thy goods and ground 
Submit to love ; but yet not more then all. 
Give one estate, as one life. None is bound 
To work for two, who brought himself to thrall. 
God made me one man ; love makes me no more. 
Till labour come, and make my weaknesse score. 

In thy discourse, if thou desire to please : 
All such is courteous, useful, new, or wittie : 
Usefulness comes by labour, wit by ease ; 
Courtesie grows in coui-t ; news in the citie. 



12 HERBERT S POEMS. 



Get a good stock of these, then draw the card ; 
That suites him best, of whom thy speech is heard. 

Entice all neatly to what they know best ; 
For so thou dost thyself and him a pleasure: 
(But a proud ignorance will lose his rest, 
Rather than show his cards) steal from his treasure 
What to ask further. Doubts well-rais'd do lock 
The speaker to thee, and preserve thy stock. 

If thou be Master-gunner, spend not all 
That thou canst speak, at once ; but husband it, 
And give men turns of speech : do not forestall 
By lavishnesse thine own, and others wit. 
As if thou mad'st thy will. A civil guest 
Will no more talk all, than eat all the feast 

Be calm in arguing : for fiercenesse makes 
Errour a fault and truth discourtesie. 
Why should I feel another man's mistakes 
More than his sicknesses or povertie ? 
In love I should : but anger is not love, 
. Nor wisdome neither ; therefore gently move. 

Calmnesse is great advantage : he that lets 
Another chafe, may warm him at his fire : 
Mark all his wanderings, and enjoy his frets ; 
As cunning fencers sufi"er heat to tire. 
Truth dwels not in the clouds : the bow that's there 
Doth often aim at, never hit the sphere. 

Mark what another sayes : for many are 
Full of themselves, and answer their own notion. 
Take all into thee ; then with equall care 
Ballance each di'amme of reason, like a potion. 
If truth be with thy friend, be with them both, 
Share in the conquest, and confesse a troth. 

Be useful where thou livest, that they may 
Both want, and msh thy pleasing presence still. 



THE CHURCH-PORCH. 13 



Kindnesse, good parts, great places are the way 
To compasse this. Finde out men's wants and will, 

And meet them there. All worldly jojes go lesse 

To the one joy of doing kindnesses. 

Pitch thy behaviour low, thy projects high ; 
So shalt thou humble and magnanimous be : 
Sink not in spirit : who, aimeth at the sky 
Shoots higher much than he that means a tree. 
A grain of glorie mixt with humblenesse 
Cures both a fever and lethargicknesse. 

Let thy minde still be bent, still plotting where, 
And when, and how the businesse may be done. 
Slacknesse breeds worms ; but the sure traveller, 
Though he alight sometimes, still goeth on. 
Active and stirring spirits live alone 
Write on the others, Here lies such a one. 

Slight not the smallest losse, whether it be 
In love or honour ; take account of all : 
Shine like the sunne in every corner : see 
Whether thy stock of credit swell, or fall. 

Who say, I care not, those I give for lost ; 

And to instruct them, 'twill not quit the cost. 

Scorn no man's love, though of a mean degree 

(Love is a present for a mightie king,) 

Much lesse make any one thine enemie. 

As gunnes destroy, so may a little sling. 
The cunning workman never doth refuse 
The meanest tool, that he may chance to use. 

All forrain wisdome doth amount to this, 
To take all that is given ; whether wealth, 
Or love, or language ; nothing comes amisse : 
A good digestion turneth all to health : 
And then as farre as fair behaviour may, 
Strike off all scores; none are so cleare as they. 



34 Herbert's poems. 



Keep all thy native good^ and naturalize 
All forrain of that name ; but scorn their ill : 
Embrace their activenesse, not vanities. 
Who follows all things, forfeiteth his will. 
If thou observest strangers in each fit, 
In time they'l runne thee out of all thy wit. 

Affect in tilings about thee cleanlinesse, 
That all may gladly board thee, as a flo^vre. 
Slovens take up their stock of noisomenesse 
Beforehand, and anticipate their last houre. 
Let thy mindes sweetness have his operation 
Upon thy body, clothes, and habitation. 

In Almes regard thy means, and others merit. 

Think heav'n a better bargain, then to give 

Onely thy single market-money for it. 

Joyn hands with God to make a man to live. 
Give to all something ; to a good poore man. 
Till thou change names, and be where he began. 

Man is God's image ; but a poore man is 
Christ's stamp to boot : both images regard. 
God reckons for him, counts the favour his : 
Write, So much giv'n to God ; thou shalt be heard. 
Let thy almes go before, and keep heav'n' s gate 
Open for thee ; or both may come too late. 

Restore to God his due in tithe and time : 
A tithe purloin' d cankers the whole estate. 
Sundaies observe : think when the bells do chime 
'Tis angel's musick ; therefore come not late. 
God then deals blessings : If a king did so, 
Who would not haste, nay give, to see the show ? 

Twice on the day his due is understood ; 
For all the week thy food so oft he gave thee. 
Thy cheere is mended ; bate not of the food, 
Because 'tis better, and perhaps may save thee. 




STOifl-axes o"b3ex-re : -thiak ^(lll3l -file "bells cLo c3xbiie 
'lis aiL^els mosic ; Tlieraiaire ctjra.e -not late, 

Tlie CliTirdh.Pai;di-i..l4 



THE CHURCH-PORCH. 15 

Thwart not th.' Almighty God : be not crosse. 
Fast when thou wilt ; but then 'tis gain, not losse. 

Though private prayer be a brave designe, 
Yet publick hath more promises, more love : 
And love's a weight to hearts, to eies a signe. 
We all are but cold suitours ; let us move 

Where it is warmest. Leave thy six and seven ; 

Pray with the most : for where most pray, is heaven. 

When once thy foot enters the chiu'ch, be bare. 

God is more there, then thou : for thou art there 

Onely by his permission. Then beware, 

And make thyself all reverence and fear. 
Kneeling ne're spoil' d silk stocking: quit thy state. 
All equall are within the churches gate. 

Resort to sermons, but to prayers most : 
Praying's the end of preaching. be drest; 
Stay not for th' other pin : why thou hast lost 
A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest 
Away thy blessings, and extreamly flout thee, 
Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose about thee. 

In time of service seal up both thine eies, 
And send them to thine heart ; that spying sinne. 
They may weep out the stains by them did rise : 
Thos6 doores being shut, all by the eare comes in. 

Who marks in church-time other symmetric. 

Makes all their beautie his deformitie. 

Let vain or busie thoughts have there no part : 
Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasures thither. 
Christ purg'd his temple ; so must thou thy heart. 
All worldly thoughts are but theeves met together 

To couzin thee. Look to thy actions well ; 

For churches either are our heav'n or hell. 

Judge not the preacher ; for he is thy Judge : 
If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st him not. 



HERBERT S POEMS. 



God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge 
To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. 
The worst speaks something good : if all want sense, 
God takes a text, and preacheth patience. 

He that gets patience, and the blessl ^ which 
Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains. 
He that by being at church escapes the ditch, 
Which he might fall in by companions, gains. 
He that loves God's abode, and to combine 
With saints on earth, shall one day with them shine. 

Jest not at preacher's language, or expression : 
How know'st thou, but thy sinnes made him miscarrie ? 
Then turn thy faults and his into confession : 
God sent him, whatsoe're he be : tarry. 
And love him for his Master : his condition. 
Though it be ill, makes him no ill Physician. 

None shall in hell such bitter pangs endure 
As those, who mock at God's way of salvation. 
Whom oil and balsames kill, what salve can cure ? 
They drink with greedinesse a full damnation. 

The Jews refused thunder ; and we, folly. 

Though God do hedge us in, yet who is holy ? 

Summe up at night, what thou hast done by day ; 

And in the morning, what thou hast to do. 

Dresse and undresse thy soul : mark the decay 

And growth of it : if with thy watch, that too 
Be down, then winde up both, since we shall be 
Most surely judg'd, make thy accounts agree. 

In brief, acquit thee bravely ; play the man. 

Look not on pleasures as they come, but go. 

Defer not the least vertue : life's poore span 

Make not an ell, by trifling in thy wo. 
If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains : 
If well ; the pain doth fade, the joy remains. 



THE CHFECH. 17 



THE CHUECH. 



SUPERLIMINARE. 

Thou, whom the former precepts have 
Sprinkled and taught, how to hehave 
Thy self in church ; approach, and taste 
The churches mysticall repast. 

Avoid profanenesse ; come not here : 
Nothing but holy, pure, and cleare, 
Or that which groneth to be so, 
May at his perill further go. 



THE ALTAR. 

A broken Altar, Lord, thy servant reares, 

Made of a heart, and cemented with teares : 

Whose parts are as thy hand did frame ; 

No workman's tool hath touch' d the same. 

A Heart alone 

Is such a stone, 

As nothing but 

Thy power doth cut. 

AVhererbre each part 

Of my hard heart 

Meets in this frame, 

To praise thy name : 

Q^liat, if I chance to hold my peace, 

These stones to praise thee may not cease. 

let thy blessed Sacrifice be mine, 

And sanctifie this Altar to be thine. 



18 HERBERT S POEMS. 



THE SACRIFICE. 
Oh all ye, who passe by, whose eyes and minde 
To worldly things are sharp, but to me blinde ; 
To me, who took eyes that I might you finde : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

The Princes of my people make a head 
Against their Maker : they do wish me dead, 
Who cannot wish, except I give them bread : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

Without me each one, who doth now me brave. 
Had to this day been an Egyptian slave. 
They use that power against me, which I gave : 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

Mine own Apostle, who the bag did beare, 
Though he had all I had, did not forbeare 
To seU me also, and to put me there : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

For thirtie pence he did my death devise, 
Who at three hundred did the ointment prize, 
Not half so sweet as my sweet sacrifice : 

Was ever grief hke mine ? 

Therefore my soul melts, and my heart's deare treasure 
Drops bloud (the only beads) my words to measure : 
let this cup passe, if it be thy pleasure : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

These drops being temper'd with a sinner's tears, ' 
A Balsome are for both the Hemispheres, 
Cming all wounds, but mine ; all, but my fears. 
Was ever grief hke mine ? 

Yet my Disciples sleep : I cannot gain 

One houre of watching ; but their drowsie brain 

Comforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 



THE CHURCH. 19 



Arise, arise ; they come. Look how they runne ! 
Alas ! what haste they make to be undone ! 
How with their lanterns do they seek the sunne ! 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

"With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief, 
Who am the way of truth, the true relief, 
Most true to those who are my greatest grief: 

Was ever grief like mine 1 

Judas, dost thou betray me Avith a kisse ? 
Canst thou finde hell about my lips ? and misse 
Of life, just at the gates of life and bhsse ? 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

See, they lay hold on me, not with the hands 
Of faith, but furie ; yet at their commands 
I suffer binding, who have loos' d their bands : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

All my Disciples flie ; fear puts a barre 
Betwixt my friends and me. They leave the starre, 
That brought the wise men of the East from farre: 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

Then from one ruler to another bound 
They leade me : urging, that it was not found 
What I taught : Comments would the text confound. 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

The Priests and rulers all false witnesse seek 
'Gainst him, who seeks not life, but is the meek 
And readie Paschal Lambe of this great week : 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

Then they accuse me of great blasphemie, 
That I did thrust into the Deitie, 
Who never thought that any robberie : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 



20 HERBERT S POEMS. 



Some said, that I the Temple to the fioore 
In three days raz'd, and raised as before. 
Why, he that built the world can do much more. 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

Then they condemne me all with that same breath, 
Which I do give them daily, unto death. 
Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth: 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

They binde, and leade me unto Herod : he 
Sends me to Pilate. This makes them agree ; 
But yet their friendship is my enmitie. 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

Herod and all his bands do set me light. 
Who teach all hands to warre, fingers to fight, 
And onely am the Lord of hosts and might. 

Was ever grief hke mine ? 

Herod in judgment sits, while I do stand ; 
Examines me with a censorious hand : 
I him obey, who all things else command ; 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

The Jews accuse me with despitefulnesse ; 
And vying malice with my gentlenesse, 
Pick quarrels with their onely happinesse : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

I answer nothing, but with patience prove 
If stonie hearts will melt with gentle love. 
But who does hawk at eagles with a dove ? 

Was ever giief like mine i 

My silence rather doth augment their crie ; 
My dove doth back into my bosome flie, 
Because the raging waters stiR are high : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 



THE CHURCH. 21 



Hark how they cry aloud still, Gnicijie : 
It is not fit he live a day, they crie, 
Who cannot live lesse than eternally : 

Was ever grief like mine I 

Pilate a stranger holdeth off ; but they, 
Mine own deare people, cry, Away^ away. 
With noises confused frighting the day : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

Yet still they shout, aj^d crie, and stop their eares, 
Putting my life among their sinnes and feares. 
And therefore wish my hloud on them and theirs : 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

See how spite cankers things. These words aright 
Used, and wished, are the whole world's light : 
But honey is their gall, brightnesse their night: 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

They choose a murderer, and all agree 
In him to do themselves a coiu-tesie ; 
For it was their own cause who killed me : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

And a seditious murderer he was : 
But I the Prince of Peace ; peace that doth passe 
All understanding, more than heav'n doth glasse : 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

Why, Cesar is their onely king, not I 

He clave the stonie rock, when they were drie ; 

But surely not their hearts, as I will trie : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

Ah ! how they scourge me ! yet my tendernesse 
Doubles each lash: and yet their bitternesse: 
Windes up my grief to a mysteriousnesse : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 



22 HERBERT S POEMS. 



They buffet me, and box me as they list, 
Who grasp the earth and heaven with my ftst, 
And never yet, whom I would punish, niiss'd: 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

Behold, they spit on me in scornfuU wise ; 
Who by my spittle gave the blinde man eies, 
Leaving his blindnesse to mine enemies : 

Was ever grief like mine I 

My face they cover, though it be divine. 

As Moses face was vailed, so is mine. 

Lest on their double-dark souls either shine : 

Was ever grief like mine '^ 

Servants and abjects flout me ; they are wittie : 
Now prophesie who strikes thee, is their dittie. 
So they in me denie themselves all pitie : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 



Which each one cals for so with utmost breath, 
That he before me wfell-nigh suft'ereth : 

Was ever grief like mine 1 

Weep not, deare friends, since I for both have wept 
When all my tears were bloud, the while you slept : 
Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept : 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

The souldiers lead me to the common hall ; 
There they deride me, they abuse me all ; 
Yet for twelve heav'nly legions I could call : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

Then with a scarlet robe they me array ; 
Which shews my bloud to be the onely way, 
And cordiall left to repair man's decay : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 



THE CHURCH. 23 



Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear ; 
For these are all the grapes Sion doth bear, 
Though I my vine planted and watred there : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

So sits the earth's great curse in Adam's fall 
Upon my head ; so I remove it all 
From th' earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall : 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

Then with the reed they gave to me before. 

They strike my head, the rock from whence all store 

Of heav'nly blessings issue evermore : 

Was ever grief like mine i 

They bow their knees to me, and cry. Hail king : 
What ever scoflfes or scornfulnesse can bring, 
I am the fioore, the sink, where they it fling : 

Was ever grief hke mine ? 

Yet since man's scepters are as frail as reeds. 
And thorny all their crowns, bloudie their weeds ; 
I, who am Truth, turn into truth their deeds : 

Was ever giief like mine ? 

The souldiers also spit upon that face 
Which Angels did desire to have the grace. 
And Prophets once to see, but found no place : 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout, 
Who Grucifie him, crie with one strong shout. 
God holds his peace at man, and man cries out : 
Was ever grief like mine ? 

They leade me in once more, and putting then 
Mine own clothes on, they leade me out agen. 
Whom devils flie, thus is he toss'd of men : 

Was ever giief like mine ? 



24 Herbert's poems. 



And now wearie of sport, glad to ingrosse 
All spite in one, counting my life their losse, 
They came me to my most bitter crosse : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

My crosse I bear my self, untill I faint : 
Then Simon bears it for me by constraint, 
The decreed burden of each mortall Saint : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

all ye who passe hj, heliold and see : 

Man stole the frait, but I must climbe the tree ; 

The tree of life to all, but onely me : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

Lo, here I hang, charg'd with a world of sinne, 
The greater world o' th' two ; for that came in 
By words, but this by sorrow I must win : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

Such sorrow, as if smful man could feel, 

Or feel his part, he would not cease to kneel, 

Till all were melted, though he were all steel. 

Was ever grief like mine 1 

But, my God, my God! why leav'st thou me, 
The Sonne, In whom thou dost delight to be ? 

My God, my God 

Never was grief like mine .' 

Shame tears my soul, my bodie many a wound ; 
Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confoimd 
Reproches, which are free, while I am boimd : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

Now heal thyself. Physician ; now come down. 

Alas ! I did so, when I left my cro^vn 

And Father's smile for you, to feel his frown : 

Y\' as ever grief hke mine ? 



THE CHURCH. 25 



In healing not myself, there doth consist 
All that salvation, which ye now resist ; 
Your safetie in my sicknesse doth subsist : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 
Betwixt two theeves I spend my utmost breath. 
As he that for some robberie suffereth, 
Alas ! what have I stollen from you ? death : 

Was ever grief like mine 1 
A king my title is, prefixt on high ; 
Yet by my subjects am condemn' d to die 
A servile death in servile companie : 

Was ever giief like mine ? 
They gave me vineger mingled with gall. 
But more with malice : yet, when they did call, 
With manna, angel's food, I fed them all : 

Was ever giief like mine ? 
They part my garments, and by lot dispose 
My coat, the type of love, which once cur'd those 
Who sought for help, never malicious foes : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 
Nay, after death their spite shall further go ; 
For they will pierce my side, I full well know ; 
That as sinne came, so sacraments might flow : 

Was ever gTief like mine ? 
But now I die ; now all is finished. 
My wo, man's weal: and now I bow my head : 
Onely let others say, when I am dead, 

Never was grief like mine ! 



THE THANKSGIVING. 

Oh King of giief ! (a title strange, yet true, 
To thee of all kings onely due) 

Oh King of wounds ! how shall I grieve for thee, 
Who in all giief preventest me ? 

ShaU I weep bloud 1 why, thou hast wept such store, 
That all thy body was one doore. 



HERBERT'S POEMS. 



Shall I be scourged, flouted, boxed, sold ? 

'Tis but to tell the tale is told. 
My God, my God, why dost thou part from ine? 

Was such a grief as cannot be. 
Shall I then sing, skipping, thy dolefull storie, 

And side with thy triumphant glorie ? 
Shall thy strokes be my stroking ? thorns, my flower ? 

Thy rod, my posie ? crosse, my bower ? 
But how then shall I imitate thee, and 

Copie thy fair, though bloudie hand ? 
Surely I will revenge me on thy love. 

And trie who shall victorious prove. 
If thou dost give me wealth ; I will restore 

All back unto thee by the poore. 
If thou dost give me honour ; men shall see, 

The honoui' doth belong to thee. 
I will not marry; or, if she be mine, 

She and her children shall be thine. 
My bosom friende, if he blaspheme thy name, 

I will tear thence his love and fame. 
One half of me being gone, the rest I give 

Unto some Chapell, die or live. 
As for thy passion — But of that anon. 

When with the other I have done. 
For thy predestination, I'll contrive. 

That three years hence, if I siu-vive, 
I'll build a spittle, or mend common wayes, 

But mend mine own without delayes. 
Then I will use the works of thy creation, 

As if I us'd them but for fashion. 
The world and I will quarrell ; and the yeare 

Shall not perceive, that I am here. 
My musick shall finde thee, and ev'ry string 

Shall have his attribute to sing ; 
That all together may accord in thee. 

And prove one God, one harmonic. 
If thou shalt give me wit, it shall appeare, 

If thou hast given it me, 'tis here. 



THE CHURCH. 27 



Nay, I will reade thy booke, and never move 
Till I have found therein thy love ; 

Thy art of love, which I'll turn back on thee, 
Oh my dear Saviour, Victorie ! 

Then for thy passion— I will do for that — 
Alas, my God, I know not what. 



THE REPRISALL. 

I HAVE consider' d it, and finde 
There is no dealing with thy mighty passion : 
For though I die for thee, I am behinde ; 

My sinnes deserve the condemnation. 

make me innocent, that I 
May give a disentangled state and free ; 
And yet thy wounds still my attempts defie. 

For by thy death I die for thee. 

Ah ! was it not enough that thou 
By thy eternall giorie didst outgo me 1 
Couldst thou not grief's sad conquests me allow, 

But in all vict'ries overthrow me ? 

Yet by confession will I come 
Into the conquest. Though I can do nought 
Against thee, in thee I will overcome 

The man, who once against thee fought. 



THE AGONIE. 

Philosophers have measur'd mountains, 
Fathom' d the depths of seas, of states, and kings, 
Walk'd with a staffe to heav'n, and traced fountains: 

But there are two vast, spacious things, 
The which to measm-e it doth more behove : 
Yet few there are that found them ; Sinne and Love. 



28 Herbert's poems. 



Yv lio would kiiow Sinne, let hira repair 
Unto mount Olivet ; there shall he see 
A man so wnmg with pains, that all his hair, 

His skinne, his gai-ments bloudie be. 
Sinne is that presse and vice, which forceth pain 
To hunt his cruell food thi'ough eVry vein. 

Who knows not Love, let him assay. 
And taste that juice, which on the crosse a pike 
Did set again abroach ; then let him say 

If ever he did taste the like. 
Love in that liquoiu' sweet and most divine, 
Which my God feels as bloud ; but I, as wine. 



THE SINNER 

Lord, how I am all ague, when I seek 

What I have treasm-ed in my memorie ! 

Since, if my soul make even with the week, 

Each seventh note by right is due to thee. 

I finde there cxuarries of pil'd vanities. 

But shi^eds of hohnesse, that dare not ventiu*e 
To shew their face, since crosse to thy decrees : 

There the circiunference earth is, heaVn the centre. 

In so much dregs the quintessence is small : 

The spiiit and good extract of my heart 
Comes to about the many hundreth part. 

Yet, Lord, restore thine image, heare my caU : 

And though my hard heart scarce to thee can grone, 
Remember that thou once didst wiite in stone. 



GOOD FRIDAY. 

MY chief good, 
How shall r measure out thy bloud? 
How shall I coimt what thee befell, 

And each grief tell ? 



THE CHURCH. 29 



Shall I thy woes 
Number according to thy foes ? 
Or, since one starre shew'd thy first breath, 

Shall all thy death? 

Or shall each leaf, 
Which falls in autumne, score a grief? 
Or cannot leaves, but fruit, be signe. 

Of the true vine ? 

Then let each houre 
Of my whole life one grief devoure ; 
That thy distresse through all may runne, 

And be my sunne. 

Or rather let 
My severall sinnes their sorrows get ; 
That as each beast his cure doth know, 

Each sinne may so. 

Since bloud is fittest. Lord, to wiite 
Thy sorrows in, and bloudie fight ; 
My heart hath store ; write there, where in 
One box doth lie both ink and sinne : 

That when sinne spies so many foes, 
Thy whips, thy nails, thy wounds, thy woes, 
All come to lodge there, sinne may say. 
No room for me, and flie away. 

Sinne being gone, oh fill the place. 
And keep possession with thy grace ; 
Lest sinne take courage and return. 
And all the writings blot or burn. 



REDEMPTION. 

Having been tenant long to a rich Lord, 
Not thriving, I resolved to be bold. 
And make a suit unto him, to affbrd 

A new small-rented lease, and cancell th' old. 



30 tterbert''? poems. 



In heaven at Iiis manour I him sought : 

They told me there, that he was lately gone 
About some land, which he had dearly bought 

Long since on earth, to take possession. 

I straight return' d, and knowing his great birth, 
Sought him accordingly in great resorts ; 
In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts : 

At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth 

Of theeves and murderers : there I him espied, 
Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and died. 



SEPULCHRE. 

BLESSED bodie! whither art thou thrown? 
No lodging for thee, but a cold hard stone ? 
So many hearts on earth, and yet not one 
Receive thee ? 

Sure there is room within our hearts good store ; 
For they can lodge transgressions by the score : 
Thousand of toyes dwell there, yet out of doore 
They leave thee. 

But that which shews them large, shews them unfit. 
Whatever sinne did this pure rock commit, 
Which holds thee now ? Who hath indited it 
Of murder ? 

Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee, 
And missing this, most falsely did arraigne thee ; 
Onely these stones in quiet entertain thee. 
And order. 

And as of old, the law by heav'nly art, 
Was writ in stone ; so thou, which also art 
The letter of the word, find'st no fit heart 
To hold thee. 



THE CHURCH. 31 



Yet do we still persist as we began, 
And so should perish, but that nothing can, 
Though it be cold, hard, foul, from loving man 
Withhold thee. 



EASTER. 

Rise heart ; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise 
Without delayes, 

Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise 
With him mayst rise 

That, as his death calcined thee to dust. 

His hfe may make thee gold, and much more just. 

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part 

With all thy art. 

The crosse taught all wood to resound his name 
Who bore the same. 

His stretched sinews taught all strings, what key 

Is best to celebrate this most high day. 

Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song 

Pleasant and long : 

Or since all musick is but three parts vied. 

And multiplied ; 

let thy blessed Spirit bear a part. 

And make up om' defects with his sweet art. 

I got me flowers to straw thy way ; 

1 got me boughs off many a tree : 
But thou wast up by break of day. 

And brought' st thy sweets along with thee. 

The Sunne arising in the East, 
Though he gave hght, and th' East perfume .; 

If they should offer to contest 
With thy arising, they presume. 



HERBERT S POEMS. 



Can tliere be any day but this, 
Though many sunnes to shine endeavour i 

We count three hundred, but we misse : 
There is but one, and that one ever. 



EASTER WINGS. 

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, 

Though foohshly he lost the same, 

Decaying more and more. 

Till he became 

Most poor : 

With thee 

let me rise 

As larks, harmoniously. 

And sing this day thy victories 

Then shall the fall further the flight in me. 

My tender age in sorrow did begiune : 

And all with sicknesses and shame 

Thou didst so punish sinne 

That I became 

Most thmne. 

With thee 

Let me combine, 

And feel this day thy victorie. 

For, if I imp my wing on thine. 

Affliction shall advance the flight in me. 



HOLY BAPTISME. 

As he that sees a dark and shadie grove, 

Stayes not, but looks beyond it on the skie ; 
So when I view my sinnes, mine eyes remove 

More backward still, and to that water flie, 



THE CHURCH. 33 



AVhicli is above the heaVris, whose spring and rent 
Is in my dear Redeemer's pierced side. 
blessed streams ! either ye do prevent 

And stop our siimes from growing thick and wide, 

Or else give tears to drown them, as they grow. 
In you Redemption measm^es all my time. 
And spreads the plaister equall to the crime : 

You taught the book of life my name, that so, 

Whatever future sinnes should me miscaU, 
Your first acquaintance might discredit all. 



HOLY BAPTISME. 

Since, Lord, to thee 
A narrow way and little gate 
Is all the passage, on my infancie 
Thou didst lay hold, and antedate 
My faith in me. 

let me still 
Write thee great God, and me a childe : 
Let me be soft and supple to thy will. 
Small to myself, to others milde, 

Behither ill. 

Although by stealth 
My flesh get on ; yet let her sister 
My soul bid nothing, but preserve her wealth. 
The gi'owth of flesh is but a blister ; 

Childhood is health. 



NATURE. 

Full of rebellion, I would die, 
Or fight, or travell, or denie 



34 Herbert's poems. 



That thou hast ought to do with me. 

tame my heart ; 

It is thy highest art 
To captivate strong holds to thee. 

If thou shalt let this venome lurk, 
And in suggestions fume and work, 
My soul will turn to bubbles straight, 
And thence by kinde 
Vanish into a winde, 
Making thy workmanship deceit. 

smooth my rugged heart, and there 

Engrave thy rev'rend law and fear ; 

Or make a new one, since the old 
Is saplesse grown. 
And a much fitter stone 

To hide my dust, then thee to hold. 



SINNE. 

Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round ! 
Parents first season us : then schoolmasters 
Deliver us to laws ; they send us bound 

To rules of reason, holy messengers. 

Pulpits and sundayes, sorrow dogging sinne, 
Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, 
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in. 

Bibles laid open, millions of surprises, 

Blessings beforehand, tyes of gratefulnesse. 
The sound of glorie ringing in our eares ; 
Without, our shame ; within, our consciences ; 

Angels and gi'ace, eternall hopes and fears. 

Yet all these fences and their whole aray 
One cunning bosome-sinne blows quite away. 



THE CHURCH. 35 



AFFLICTION 

When first thou didst entice to thee my heart, 
I thought the service brave : 

So many joyes I writ down for my part, 

Besides what I might have 

Out of my stock of naturall dehghts. 

Augmented with thy gracious benefits. 

I looked on thy furniture so fine, 

And made it fine to me ; 

Thy glorious household-stuffe did me entwine, 
And 'tice me unto thee. 

Such starres I counted mine: both heav'n and earth 

Payd me my wages in a world of mirth. 

What pleasures could I want, whose King I served, 
Where joyes my fellows were ? 

Thus argu'd into hopes, my thoughts reserved 
No place for grief or fear ; 

Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place. 

And made her youth and fiercenesse seek thy face : 

At first thou gav'st me milk and sweetnesses ; 

I had my wish and way : 
My dayes were straw'd with floVrs and happinesse ; 

There was no moneth but May. 
But with my yeares sorrow did twist and grow, 
And made a partie unawares for wo. 

My flesh began unto my soul in pain. 

Sicknesses cleave my bones. 

Consuming agues dwell in ev'ry vein. 

And tune ray breath to grones : 

Sorrow was all my soul ; I scarce beleeved. 

Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived. 

When I got health, thou took'st away my life. 
And more ] for my friends die : 



36 HERBERT S POEMS, 



My mirth and edge was lost ; a blunted knife 

Was of more use then I. 
Thus thinne and lean without a fence or friend, 
I was blown through with ev'ry storm and winde. 

Whereas my birth and spirit rather took 

The way that takes the town ; 

Thou didst betray me to a lingring book, 
And wrap me in a gown. 

I was entangled in the world of strife. 

Before I had the power to change my life. 

Yet, for I threatened oft the siege to raise. 

Not simpring all mine age, 
Thou often didst with academick praise 

Melt and dissolve my rage. 
I took thy sweetened pill, till I came neare ; 
I could not go away, nor persevere. 

Yet lest perchance I should too happie be 
In my unhappinesse, 

Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me 
Into more sicknesses. 

Thus doth thy power cross-bias me, not making 

Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking. 

Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me 
None of my books will show : 

I reade, and sigh, and wish I were a tree ; 
For sure then I should gi'ow 

To fruit or shade: at least some bird would trust 

Her household to me, and I should be just. 

Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek ; 

In weaknesse must be stout. 
Well, I will change the service, and go seek 

Some other master out. 
Ah my deare God ! though I am clean forgot, 
Let me not love thee, if I love thee not. 



THE CHTJKCH. 37 



REPENTANCE. 

Lord, I confesse my sinne is great ; 
Great is my sinne. Oh ! gently treat 
With thy quick fiow'r, thy momentarie bloom ; 

Whose life still pressing 

Is one undressing, 
A steadie aiming at a tombe. 

Man's age is two hoiu-es work, or three ; 
Each day doth round about us see. 
Thus are we to delights : but we are all 

To sorrows old, 

If life be told 
From what life feeleth, Adam's fall. 

Oh let thy height of mercie then 
Compassionate short-breathed men. 
Cut me not off for my most foul transgression : 

I do confesse 

My foolishnesse ; 
My God, accept of my confession. 

Sweeten at length this bitter bowl. 
Which thou hast pour'd into my soul ; 
Thy wormwood turn to health, windes to fair weather, 

For if thou stay, 

I and this day. 
As we did rise we die together. 

When thou for sinne rebukest man, 
Forthwith he waxeth wo and wan : 
Bitternesse fills our bowels ; all our hearts 
Pine, and decay, 
And drop away. 
And carrie with them th' other parts. 

But thou wilt sinne and grief destroy ; 
That so the brokea bones may joy, 



38 HERBERT S POEMS. 



And tune together in a well-set song, 
Full of his praises 
"Who dead men raises. 
Fractures well cur d make us more strong. 



FAITH. 

Lord, how couldst thou so much appease 
Thy wrath for sinne, as when man's sight was dimme, 
And could see little, to regard his ease. 

And bring by Faith all things to him ? 

Hungrie I was, and had no meat : 
I did conceit a most delicious feast ; 
I had it straight, and did as truly eat, 

4s eve-r did a welcome guest. 

There is a rare outlandish root. 
Which when T could not get, I thought it here : 
That apprehension cur'd so well my foot, 

That I can walk to heaVn well neare. 

I owed thousands and much more i 
I did beheve that I did nothing owe, 
And liv'd accordingly ; my creditor 

Beleeves so too, and lets me go. 

Faith makes ine any thing, or all 
That I beleeve is in the sacred storie : 
And where sinne placeth me in Adam's fall, 

Faith sets me higher in his glorie. 

If I go lower in the book. 
What can be lower than the common manger ? 
Faith puts me there with Him, who sweetly took 

Our flesh and frailtie, death and danger 

If blisse had lien in art or strength, 
None but the wise or strong had gained it : 
Where now by Faith all arms are of a length, 

One size doth all conditions fit. 



THE CHURCH. 



A peasant may beleeve as much 
As a great clerk, and reach the highest stature. 
Thus dost thou make proud knowledge bend and crouch, 

While grace fills up uneven nature. 

When creatures had no reall light 
Inherent in them, thou didst make the sunne, 
Impute a lustre, and aUow them bright : 

And in this show, what Christ hath done. 

That which before was darkned clean 
With bushie groves, pricking the looker's eie, 
Vanisht away, when Faith did change the scene 

And then appeared a glorious skie. 

What though my bodie run to dust ? 
Faith cleaves unto it, counting eVry grain, 
With an exact and most particular trust. 

Reserving all for flesh agam. 



PRAYER. 

Prater, the Church's banquet, angel's age, 
God's breath in man returning to his birth. 
The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage. 

The Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth : 

Engine against th' Almightie, sinner's towre, 
Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear. 
The six dales' world-transposing in an houre, 

A kinde of tune, which all things heare and feare ; 

Softnesse, and peace, and joy, and love, and blisse, 
Exalted manna, gladnesse of the best, 
Heaven in ordinarie, man well drest. 

The milkie way, the bird of paradise. 

Church-bels beyond the stars heard, the soul's bloud. 
The land of spices, something understood. 



40 Herbert's poems. 



.THE HOLY COMMUNION. 

Not in rich furniture, or fine array, 
Nor in a wedge of gold, 
Thou, who from me wast sold. 
To me dost now thyself convey ; 

For so thou should' st without me still have been, 
Leaving within me sinne : 

But by the way of nourishment and strength. 
Thou creep' st into my breast ; 
Making, thy way my rest. 
And thy small quantities my length ; 

Which spread their forces into every part, 



Yet can these not get over to my soul, ' 
Leaping the wall that parts 
Oiu" souls and fleshly hearts ; 
But as th' outworks, they may controll 

My rebel-flesh, and carrying thy name. 
Affright both sinne and shame. 

Onely thy grace, which with these elements comes, 

Knoweth the ready way, 

And hath the privie key, 
Op'ning the soul's most subtile rooms : 
While those to spirits refin'd, at doore attend 

Despatches from their friend. 

Give me my captive soul, or take 

My body also thither. 
Another lift like this will make 

Them both to be together. 

Before that sinne turn'd flesh to stone, 
And aU our lump to leaven ; 

A fervent sigh might well have blown 
Our innocent earth to heaven. 



THE CHURCH. 41 

For sure when Adam did not know 

To sinne, or sinne to smother ; 
He might to heav'n from Paradise go, 
As from one room t' another. 
Thou hast restor'd us to this ease 

By this thy heav'nly bloud, 
Which I can go to, when I please, 
And leave th' earth to their food. 



ANTIPHON. 

€ho. Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing, 
My God and King. 

Vers. The heav'ns are not too high, 
His praise may thither flie : 
The earth is not too low, 
His praises there may grow. 

Cho. Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing. 
My God and King. 

Vers. The church with psalms must shout. 
No doore can keep them out : 
But above all, the heart 
Must bear the longest part. 

Cho. Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing. 
My God and King. 



LOVE. 



Immortal Love, authour of this great frame. 
Sprung from that beautie which can never fade ; 
! How hath man parcel' d out thy glorious name, 

And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made, 



42 Herbert's poems. 



While mortall love doth all the title gain ! 
Which siding with invention, they together 
Bear all the sway, possessing heart and brain, 

(Thy workmanship) and give thee share in neither. 

Wit fancies beautie, beautie raiseth wit : 
The world is theirs ; they two play out the game, 
Thou standing by : and though thy glorious name 

Wrought our deliverance from the inf email pit, 

Who sings thy praise ? onely a skarf or glove 
Doth warm our hands, and make them write of love. 

II. 

Immortal Heat, let thy greater flame 
Attract the lesser to it : let those fires 
Which shall consume the world, first make it tame, 

And kindle in our hearts such true desires, 

As may consume our lusts, and make thee way. 

Then shall our hearts pant thee ; then shall our brain 

All her invention on thine altar lay, 
And there in hymnes send back thy fire again ; 

Our eies shall see thee, which before saw dust ; 
Dust blown by wit, till that they both were blinde : 
Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kinde. 

Who wert diseased by usurping lust : 

All knees shall bow to thee ; all wits shall rise, 
And praise him who did make and mend our eies. 



THE TEMPER. 

How should I praise thee. Lord ! how should my rymes 
Gladly engrave thy love in steel. 
If what my soul doth feel sometimes, 
My soul might ever feel ! 



THE CHUECH. 



Although there were some fourtie hcav'ns, or more, 
Sometimes I peere above them all ; 
Sometimes I hardly reach a score, 
Sometimes to hell I fall. 

rack me not to such a vast extent ; 
Those distances belong to thee : 
The world's too little for thy tent, 
A grave too big for me. 

Wilt thou meet arms with man, that thou lost stretch 
A crumme of dust from heav'n to hell ? 
Will great God measure with a wretch ? 
Shall he thy stature spell ? 

let me, when thy roof my soul hath hid, 
let me roost and nestle there : 
Then of a sinner thou art rid 
And I of hope and fear. 

Yet take thy way ; for sure thy way is best : 
Stretch or contract me thy poore debter : 
This is but tuning of my breast, 
To make the musick better. 

Whether I flie with angels, fall with dust. 
Thy hands made both, and I am there. 
Thy power and love, my love and trust. 
Make one place ev'ry where. 



THE TEMPER. 

It cannot be. Where is that mightie joy. 
Which just now took up all my heart ? 
Lord ! if thou must needs use thy dart, 

Save that, and me ; or sin for both destroy. 

The grosser world stands to thy word and art j 
But thy diviner world of grace 



44 Herbert's poems. 



Thou suddenly doth raise and race, 
And ev'ry day a new Creatour art. 

fix thy chau' of gi'ace, that all my powers 
May also fix their reverence : 
For when thou dost depart from hence, 

They grow um-uly, and sit in thy bowers. 

Scatter, or binde them all to bend to thee : 
Though elements change, and heaven move ; 
Let not thy higher com't remove, 

But keep a standing majestie in me. 



JORDAN. 

Who sayes that fictions onely and false hair 
Become a verse ? Is there in truth no beautie ? 
Is all good structure- in a winding stair ? 
May no lines passe, except they do their dutie 
Not to a true, but painted chair ? 

Is it not verse, except enchanted groves 
And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spunne lines ? 
Must purling streams refresh a lover's loves ? 
Must all be vaU'd, while he that reades, divines, 
Catching the sense at two removes ? 

Shepherds are honest people; let them sing : 
Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime : 
I envie no man's nightingale or spring; 
Nor let them punish me with losse of ryme, 
Who plainly say, My God, My King. 



EMPLOYMENT. 

If as a flowre doth spread and die, 

Thou wouldst extend me to some good, 
Before I were by frost's extremitie 

Nipt in the bud ; 



THE GHURCn. 45 



The sweetnesse and the praise were thine ; 

But the extension and the room, 
Which in thy garland 1 should fill, were mine 
At thy great doom. 

For as thou dost impart thy grace, 

The gi'eater shall our giorie be. 
The measure of our joyes is in this place, 
The stuffe with thee. 

Let me not languish then, and spend 

A life as barren to thy praise 
As is the dust, to which that life doth tend, 
But with delaies. 

All things are busie ; only I 

Neither bring hony with the bees. 
Nor flowres to make that, nor the husbandrie 
To water these. 

I am no link of thy great chain. 

But all my companie is a weed. 
Lord, place me in thy consort ; give one strain 
To my poore reed. 



THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. 

Oh Book ! infinite sweetnesse ! let my heart 

Suck ev'ry letter, and a hony gain, 

Precious for any grief in any part ; 
To cleare the breast, to moUifie all pain. 

Thou art all health, health tliriving, till it make 
A full eternitie : thou art a masse 
Of strange delights, where we may wish and 

Ladies, look here ; this is the thankfull glasse. 

That mends the looker's eyes : this is the well 
That washes what it shows. Who can indeare 
Thy praise too much 'I thou art Heav'n's lidger here, 

Working against the states of death and hell. 



46 HERBERT S POEMS. 



Thou art joyes handsell : heav'n lies flat in thee, 
Subject to ev'ry mounters bended knee. 

2. 

Oh that I knew how all thy lights combine, 
And the configurations of their glorie ! 
Seeing not only how each verse doth shine, 

But all the constellations of the storie. 

This verse marks that, and both do make a motion 
Unto a third, that ten leaves off doth lie : 
Then as dispersed herbs do watch a potion. 

These three make up some Christian's destinie. 

Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good. 
And comments on thee : for in ev'ry thing 
Thy words do finde me out, aiid parallels bring, 

And in another make me understood. 

Starres are poore books, and oftentimes do misse ; 
This book of starres lights to eternall blisse. 



WHITSUNDAY. 

Listen, sweet Dove, unto my song. 
And spread thy golden wings in me ; 
Hatching my tender heart so long, 
Till it get wing, and flie away with thee. 

Where is that fire which once descended 
On thy Apostles ? thou didst then 
Keep open house, richly attended. 
Feasting all comers by twelve chosen men. 

Such glorious gifts thou didst bestow. 
That th' earth did like a heav'n appeare : 
The starres were coming down to know 
If they might mend their wages, and serve here. 



THE CHURCH. 47 



The sunne, which once did shine alone, 
Hung down his head, and wisht for night, 
When he beheld twelve sunnes for one 
Going about the world, and giving light. 

But since those pipes of gold, which brought 
That cordiall water to our ground. 
Were cut and martyr' d by the fault 
Of those who did themselves through their side wound. 

Thou shutt'st the doore, and keep'st within ; 
Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink : 
And if the braves of conqu'ring sinne 
Did not excite thee, we should wholly sink. 

Lord, though we change, thou art the same ; 
The same sweet God of love and light : 
Restore this day, for thy great name. 
Unto his ancient and miraculous right. 



GRACE. 

My stock lies dead, and no increase 
Doth my dull husbandrie improve : 
let thy graces without cease 

Drop from above ! 

If still the sunne should hide his face, 
Thy house would but a dungeon prove. 
Thy works Night's captives ; let grace 
Drop from above ! 

The dew doth ev'ry morning fall ; 
And shall the dew outstrip thy dove ? 
The dew, for which grasse cannot call, 
Drop from above. 

Death is stiU working like a mole, 
And digs my grave at each remove • 



48 Herbert's poems. 



Let grace work too, and on my soul 
Drop from above. 

Sinne is still hammering my heart 
Unto a hardnesse, void of love : 
Let suppling grace, to crosse his art, 
Drop from above. 

come ! for thou dost know the way. 
Or if to me thou wilt not move, 
Remove me, where I need not say — 
Drop from above. 



PRAISE. 

To write a verse or two is all the praise, 

That I can raise : 

Mend my estate in any wayes, 

Thou shalt have more. 

I go to Church ; help me to wings, and I 
Will thither flie ; 
Or, if I mount unto the skie, 
I will do more. 

Man is all weaknesse ; there is no such thing 
As Prince or King : 
His arm is short ; yet with a sling 
He may do more. 

A herb destUl'd, and drunk, may dwell next doore,- 
On the same floore. 
To a brave soul : Exalt the poore, 
They can do more. 

raise me then ! poore bees, that work all day, 
Sting my delay, 
"Who have a work, as well as they, 

And much, much more. 



THE CHURCH. 49 



• AFFLICTION. 

Kill me not ev'ry day, 
Thou Lord of life ; since thy one death for me 
Is more than aU my deaths can be, 

Though I in broken pay 
Die over each hour of Methusalem's stay. 

If all men's tears were let 
Into one common sewer, sea, and brine ; 

What were they all, compar'd to thine ( 

Wherein if they were set. 
They would discolour thy most bloudy sweat. 

Thou art my giief alone, 
Thou, Lord, conceal it not : and as thou art 
All my delight, so all my smart : 

Thy crosse took up in one. 
By way of imprest, all my future mone. 



MATTERS. 

I CANNOT ope mine eyes. 
But thou art ready there to catch 
My morning-soul and sacrifice : 
Then we must needs for that day make a match. 

My God, what is a heart ? 
Silver, or gold, or precious stone. 
Or starre, or rainbow, or a part 
Of all these things, or all of them in one ? 

My God, what is a heart. 
That thou shouldst it so eye, and wooe, 
Powring upon it all thy art, 
As if that thou hadst nothing els to do ? 



50 HERBERT S POEMS. 

Indeed man's whole estate 
Amounts (and richly) 1;o serve thee : 
He did not heav'n and earth create, 
Yet studies them, not him by whom they be. 
Teach me thy love to know ; 
That this new light, which now I see, 
May both the work and workman show : 
Then by a sunne-beam I will climbe to thee. 



SINNE. 

THAT I Gould a sinne once see ! 

We paint the devil foul, yet he 

Hath some good in him, all agree. 
Sinne is flat opposite to th' Almighty, seeing 
It wants the good of veriue, and of being. 

But God more care of us hath had, 

If apparitions make us sad. 

By sight of sinne we should grow mad. 
Yet as in sleep we see foul death, and live ; 
So devils are our sinnes in perspective. 



EYEN-SONG. 
BiiEST be the God of love, 
Who gave me eyes, and light, and power this day, 
Both to be busie, and to play. 
But much more blest be God above, 

Who gave me sight alone, 
Which to himself he did denie : 
For when he sees my waies, I dy : 
But I have got his Sonne, and he hath none. 

What have I brought thee home 
For this thy love 'I have I discharg'd the debt 
Which this day's favoui' did beget 1 
I ranne ; but all I brought, was fome. 



THE CHURCH. 51 



Thy diet, care, and cost 
Do end in bubbles, balls of winde ; 
Of winde to thee whom I have crost, 
But balls of wilde-fire to my troubled minde. 

■ Yet still thou goest on, 
And now with darknesse closest wearie eyes, 
Saying to man, It doth suffice : 
Henceforth repose : your icork is done. 

Thus in thy ebony box 
Thou dost inclose us, till the day 
Put our amendment in oui* way, 
And give new wheels to our disorder' d clocks. 

I muse, which shows more love. 
The day or night ; that is the gale, this th' harbour ; 
That is the walk, and this the arbour ; 
Or that the garden, this the grove. 

My God, thou art all love. 
Not one poore minute 'scapes thy breast, 
But brings a favour from above ; 
And in this love, more than in bed, I rest. 



CHURCH-MONUMENTS. 

While that thy soul repairs to her devotion, 
Here I entombe my flesh, that it betimes 
May take acquaintance of this heap of dust ; 
To which the blast of death's incessant motion, 
Fed with the exhalation of our crimes, 
Drives all at last. Therefore I gladly trust 

My bodie to this school, that it may learn 
To spell his elements, and finde his birth 
Written in dustie heraldrie and lines ; 
Which dissolution sure doth best discern, 
Comparing dust with dust, and earth with earth. 
These laugh at Jeat, and Marble put for signes, 



52 HERBERT S POEMS. 



To sever the good fellowship of dust, 
And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them, 
When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat 
To kisse those heaps, which now they have in trust ? 
Deare flesh, while I do pray, learn here thy stemme 
And true descent ; that when thou shalt grow fat, 

And wanton in thy cravings, thou mayst know. 
That flesh is but the glasse, which holds the dust 
That measiu-es all our time ; which also shall 
Be crumbled into dust. Mark here below, 
How tame these ashes are, how free from lust, 
That thou mayst fit thyself against thy fall. 



CHURCH-MUSICK. 

Sweetest of sweets, I thank you: when displeasure 
Did through my bodie wound my minde. 

You took me thence ; and in your house of pleasure 
A daintie lodging me assign'd. 

Now I in you without a bodie move. 

Rising and falling with your wings : 

We both together sweetly live and love. 

Yet say sometimes, God help poor e Kings. 

Comfort, I'll die ; for if you poste from me, 
Sm-e I shall do so and much more : 

But if I travell in your companie. 

You know the way to heaven's doore. 



CHURCH LOCK AND KEY. 

I KNOW it is my sinne, wliich locks thine eares, 

And bindes thy hands ! 
Out-crying my requests, droAvning my tears ; 
Or else the chilnesse of my faint demands. 

But as cold hands are angrie with the fire, 
And mend it still ; 



THE CHURCH. 53 



So I do lay the want of my desire, 

Not on my sinnes, or coldnesse, but thy will. 

Yet heare, God, onely for his blond's sake, 

Which pleads for me ; 
For though sinnes plead too, yet like stones they make 
His blond's sweet current much more loud to be. 



THE CHURCH FLOORE. 
Mark you the fioore 'i that square and speckled stone, 
Which looks so firm and strong, 
Is Patience : 

And th' other black and grave, wherewith each one 
Is checker' d aU along, 

Humilitie : 

The gentle rising, which, on either hand 
Leads to the quire above. 

Is Confidence : 

But the sweet cement, which in one sure band 
Ties the whole frame, is Love 

And Charitie, 

Hither sometimes Sinne steals, and stains 
The marble's neat and curious veins ; 

But all is cleansed when the marble weeps. 
Sometimes Death, puffing at the doore, 
Blows all the dust upon the floore : 

But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps. 
Blest be the Architect, whose art 
Could build so strong in a weak heart. 



THE WINDOWS. 

Lord, how can man preach thy eternall word I 
He is a brittle crazie giasse ; 

Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford 
This glorious and transcendent place, 
To be a window, through thy grace. 



54 Herbert's poems. 



But when thou dost anneal in glasse thy storie, 
Making thy life to shine within 

The holy preacher's, then the light and glorie 
More rev' rend grows, and more doth win; 
Which else shows watrish, bleak, and thin. 

Doctrine and life, colours and light, in one 
When they combine and mingle, bring 

A strong regard and aw : but speecli alone 
Doth vanish like a flaring thing. 
And in the eare, not conscience ring. 



TRINITIE SUKDAY. 

Lord, who hast formed me out of mud. 
And hast redeemed me through thy bloud, 
And sanctified me to do good ; 

Purge all my sinnes done heretofore ; 
For I confesse my heavie score, 
And I will strive to sinne no more. 

Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me. 
With faith, with hope, with charitie ; 
That I may runne, rise, rest with thee. 



CONTENT. 

Peace, mutt'ring thoughts, and do not grudge to keep 
Within the walls of your own breast. 

Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep, 
Can on another's hardly rest. 

Gad not abroad at ev'ry quest and call 

Of an untrained hope or passion. 
To court each place or fortune that doth fall, 

Is wantonnesse in contemplation. 

Mark how tlie fire in flints doth quiet lie, 
Content and warm t' it self alone : 



THE CHURCH, 



But when it would appeare to other's eye, 
Without a knock it never shone. 

Give me the pliant mind, whose gentle measure 
Complies and suits with all estates ; 

Which can let loose to a crown, and yet with pleasure 
Take up within a cloister's gates. 

This soul doth span the world, and hang content 
From either pole unto tlie centre : 

Where in each room of the well-furnisht tent 
He lies warm, and without adventure. 

The brags of life are but a nine days' wonder : 
And after death the fumes that spring 

From private bodies, make as big a thunder 
As those which rise from a huge king. 

Onely thy chronicle is lost : and yet 
Better by worms be all once spent, 

Than to have hellish moths still gnaw and fret 
Thy name in books, which may not rent. 

When all thy deeds, whose brunt thou feel'st alone, 
Are chaw'd by others' pens and tongue, 

And as their wit is, their digestion. 

Thy nourisht fame is weak or strong. 

Then cease discoursing soul, till thine own ground ; 

Do not thyself or friends importune. 
He that by seeking hath himself once found, 

Hath ever found a happie fortune. 



THE QUIDDITIE. 

My God, a verse is not a crown ; 

No point of honour, or gay suit, 
No hawk, or banquet, or renown, 

Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute : 



£6 HERBERT S POEMS. 



It cannot vault, or dance, or play ; 

It never was in France or Spain; 
Nor can it entertain the day 

With a great stable or demain. 

It is no office, art, or news ; 

Nor the Exchange, or busie Hall : 
But it is that which while I use, 

I am with thee, and Most take all. 



HUMILITIE. 

I SAW the Vertues sitting hand in hand 

In sev'rall ranks upon an azure throne. 

Where all the beasts and fowls, by their command, 

Presented tokens of submission. 

Humilitie, who sat the lowest there 

To execute their call, 
When by the beast the presents tendred were, 

Gave them about to all. 

The angrie Lion did present his paw, 
Which by consent was giv'n to Mansuetude. 
The fearfuU Hare her eares, which by their law 
Humihtie did reach to Fortitude. 
The jealous Turkie brought his corall-chain, 

That went to Temperance. 
On Justice was bestow' d the Fox's brain, . 

Kill'd in the way by chance. 

At length the Crow, bringing the Peacock's plume, 
(For he would not) as they beheld the grace 
Of that brave gift, each one began to fume. 
And challenge it, as proper to his place. 
Till they fell out ; which when the beasts espied. 

They leapt upon the throne ; 
And if the Fox had liv'd to rule their side, 

They had depos'd each one. 



THE CHUECH. C7 



Humilitie, who held the phime^ at this 

Did weep so fast, that the tears trickling down 

Spoil' d all the train : then saying, Here it is 

For which ye wrangle, made them turn their frowa 

Against the beasts: so jointly bandying, 

They drive them soon away ; 
And then amerc'd them, double gifts to bring 

At the next Session-day. 



FRAILTIE. 

Lord, in my silence how do I despise 
What upon trust 
Is styled honour , riches, or fair eyes ; 
But is fair dust I 
I surname them guilded clay, 
Deare earth, fine grasse or hay ; 
In all, I think my foot doth ever tread 
Upon their head. 

But when I view abroad both regiments, 

The world's, and thine ; 
Thine clad with simplenesse, and sad events ; 
The other fine, 
Full of glorie and gay weeds, 
Brave language, braver deeds : 
That which was dust before, doth quickly rise. 
And prick mine eyes. 

brook not this, lest if what even now 
My foot did tread, 
AjBfront those joyes, wherewith thou didst endow, 
And long since wed 
My poore soul, ev'n sick of love ; 
It may a Babel prove. 
Commodious to conquer heav'n and thee 
Planted in me. 



58 HERBERT S POEMS. 



CONSTANCIE. 

Who is the honest man ? 

He that doth still and strongly good pursue, 

To God, his neighbour, and himself most true .* 

"Whom neither force nor fawning can 
Unpinne, or wrench from giving all their due. 

Whose honestie is not 
So loose or easie, that a ruffling winde 
Can blow away, or glittering look it blinde : 

Who rides his sure and even trot, 
While the world now rides by, now lags behinde. 

Who, when great trials come, 
Nor seeks, nor shunnes them ; but doth calmly stay, 
Till he the thing and the example weigh : 

All being brought into a summe, 
What place or person calls for, he doth pay. 

Whom none can work or wooe, 
To use in any thing a trick or sleight ; 
For above all things he abhorres deceit : 

His words and works and fashion too 
All of a piece, and all are cleare and straight. 

Who never melts or thaws 
At close tentations : when the day is done. 
His goodnesse sets not, but in dark can runne : 

The sunne to others wiiteth laws, 
And is their vertue ; Vertue is his Sunne. 

Who, when he is to treat 
With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway, 
Allows for that, and keeps his constant way : 

Whom others' faults do not defeat ; 
But though men fail him, yet his part doth play. 

Whom nothing can procure. 
When the wide world runnes bias, from his will 



THE CHUKCH. 59 



To writhe his limbes, and share, not mend the ill. 

This is the Mark-man, safe and sure, 
Who still is right, and prayes to be so still. 



AFFLICTION. 

My heart did heave, and there came forth, God ! 
By tha.t I knew that thou wast in the grief, 
To guide and govern it to my relief. 

Making a scepter of the rod '. 
Hadst thou not had thy part, 
Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart. 

But since thy breath gave me both life and shape. 
Thou knowst my tallies ; and when there's assign'd 
So much breath to a sigh, what's then behinde % 
Or if some yeares with it escape. 
The sigh then onely is 
A gale to bring me sooner to my blisse. 

Thy life on earth was grief, and thou art still 
Constant unto it, making it to be 
A point of honour, now to grieve in me. 
And in thy members suffer ill. 
They who lament one crosse. 
Thou dying dayly, praise thee to thy losse. 



THE STARRE. 

Bright spark, shot from a brighter place. 
Where beams surround my Saviour's face, 
Canst thou be any where 
So well as there ? 

Yet, if thou wilt from thence depart, 
Take a bad lodging in my heart ; 
For thou canst make a debter, 
And make it better. 



60 HERBERT S POEMS. 

First with thy fire- work burn to dust 
Folly, and worse than folly, lust : 
Then with thy light refine, 
And make it shine. 

So disengag'd from sinne and sicknesse, 
Touch it with thy celestiall quicknesse 
That it may hang and move 
After thy love. 

Then with our trinitie of light, 
Motion, and heat, let's take our flight 
Unto the place where thou 
Before didst bow. 

Get me a standing there, and place 
Among the beams, which crown the face 
Of him, who dy'd to part 
Sinne and my heart : 

That so among the rest I may 
Glitter, and curie, and winde as they : 
That winding is their fashion 
Of adoration. 

Sure thou wilt joy, by gaining me 
To flie home like a laden bee 
Unto that hive of beams 
And garland-streams. 



SUNDAY. 

DAT most calm, most bright, 
The fruit of this, the next world's bud, 
Th' indorsement of supreme delight. 
Writ by a friend, and with his bloud ; 
The couch of Time; Cares balm and bay ; 
The week were dark, but for thy light : 
Thy torch doth show the way. 



THE CnURCH, 61 



The other dayes and thou 
Make up one man ; whose face thou art, 
Knocking at heaven wifch thy brow: 
The worky-daies are the back-part ; 
The burden of the week lies there, 
Making the whole to stoup and bow, 

Till thy release appeare.. 

Man had straight forward gone 
To endlesse death ; but thou dost pull 
And turn us round to look on one, 
Whom, if we were not very dull, 
We could not choose but look on still ; 
Since there is no place so alone 

The which he doth not fill. 

Sundaies the pillars are, 
On which heaVn's palace arched lies: 
The other dayes fill up the spare 
And hollow room with vanities. 
They are the fruitfull beds and borders 
In God's rich garden: that is bare 

Which parts their ranks and orders. 

The Sundaies of man's life, 
Thredded together on Time's string, 
Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
Of the eternall glorious King. 
On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope ; 
Blessings are plentifull and rife, 

More plentifull then hope. 

This day my Saviour rose. 
And did inclose this light for his : 
That, as each beast his manger knows, 
Man might not of his fodder misse. 
Christ hath took in this piece of ground, 
And made a garden there for those 

Who want herbs for their wound. 



62 Herbert's poems. 



The rest of om* Creation 
Our great Redeemer did remove 
With the same shake, which at his passion 
Did th' earth and all tilings with it move. 
As Samson bore the doores away, 
Christ's hands, though nailed, wrought our salvation, 

And did unhinge that day. 

The brightnesse of that daye 
"We sullied by our foul offence : 
Wherefore that robe we cast away, 
Having a new at his expense. 
Whose drops of bloud paid the full price, 
That was requir'd to make us gay. 

And fit for Paradise. 

Thou art a day of mirth : 
And where the week-dayes trail on ground, 
Thy flight is higher, as thy birth : 
let me take thee at the bound, 
Leaping with thee from sev'n to sev'n, 
Till that we both, bemg toss'd from earth, 

Flie hand in hand to heav'n ! 



AVARICE. 

Money, thou bane of blisse, and source of wo, 
Whence com'st thou, that thou art so fresh and fin 
I know thy parentage is base and low : 

Man found thee poore and dirtie in a mine. 

Surely thou didst so little contribute 

To this great kingdome, which thou now hast got. 
That he was fain, when thou wert destitute. 

To digge thee out of thy dark cave and grot. 

Then forcing thee, by fire he made thee bright : 
Nay, thou hast got the face of man ; for we 



THE CHURCH. 63 



Have with our stamp and seal transferfd our right : 
Thou aii; the man, and man but drosse to thee. 

Man calleth thee his wealth, who made thee rich; 
And while he digs out thee, falls in the ditch. 



How well her name an Army doth present, 
In whom the Lord of hosts did pitch his tent ! 



TO ALL AKGELS AND SAINTS. 

Oh glorious spirits, who after all your bands 
See the smooth face of God, without a frown, 

Or strict commands ; 
Where ev'ry one is king, and hath his crown, 
If not upon his head, yet in his hands : 

Not out of envy or maliciousnesse 
Do I forbear to crave your speciall aid. 
I would addresse 
My vows to thee most gladly, blessed Maid, 
And Mother of my God, in my distresse : 

Thou art the holy mine, whence came the gold. 
The great restorative for all decay 

In young and old ; 
Thou art the cabinet where the Jewell lay : 
Chiefly to thee would I my soul unfold. 

But now, (alas !) I dare not ; for om* King, 
Whom we do all joyntly adore and praise, 

Bids no such thing : 
And where Ms pleasure no injunction layes, 
('Tis your own case) ye never move a wing. 



64 HERBERT S POEMS. 



All worship is prerogative, and a flower 

Of his rich crown, from whom lyes no appeal 

At the last houre : 
Therefore we dare not from his garland steal, 
To make a posie for inferiom^ power. 

Although then others court yon, if ye know 
What's done on earth, we shall not fare the worse, 

Who do not so ; 
Since we are ever ready to disburse. 
If any one our Master's hand can show. 



EMPLOYMENT. 

He that is weary, let him sit. 

My soul would stirre 
And tread in courtesies and wit. 

Quitting the furre 
To cold complexions needing it. 

Man is no starre, but a quick coal 

Of mortall fire : 
Who blows it not, nor doth controll 

A faint desire, 
Lets his own ashes choke liis soul. 

When th' elements did for place contest 

With him, whose will 
Ordain' d the highest to be best : 

The earth sat still, 
And by the others is opprest. 

Life is a businesse, not good cheer; 

Ever in warres. 
The sunne still shineth there or here, 

Whereas the starres 
Watch an advantage to appeare. 

Oh that I were an orenge-tree. 

That busie plant ! i 

I 



THE CHURCH. 65 



Then should I ever laden be, 
And never want 
Some fruit for Mm that dressed me 

But we are still too young or old ; 

The man is gone, 
Before we do oiu* wares unfold : 

So we freeze on, 
Until the grave increase our cold. 



BENIALL. 

When my devotions could not pierce 
Thy silent eares ; 
Then was my heart broken, as was my verse; 
My heart was full of fears 
And disorder, 
My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow. 
Did flie asunder : 
Each took his way; some would to pleasures go, 
Some to the warres and thunder 
Of alarms. 
As good go any where, they say, 
As to benumme 
Both knees and heart, in crying night and day. 
Come, come, my God, corner 
But no hearing. 

thou that shouldst give dust a tongue 
To cry to thee. 
And then not hear it crying ! all day long 
My heart was in my knee, 
But no hearing. 
Therefore my soul lay out of sight, 

Untun'd, unstrung: 
lily feeble spirit, unable to look right, 

Like a nipt blossome, hung 
Discontented. 



66 Herbert's poems. 



cheer and tune my heartlesse breast, 

Deferre no time ; 
That so thy favoures granting my request. 

They and my minde may chime, 
And mend my ryme. 



CHRISTMAS. 

All after pleasures as I rid one day, 
My horse and I, both tir'd, bodie and minde, 
With full crie of affections, quite astray ; 

I took up in the next inne I could finde. 

There when I came, whom found I but my deare, 
My dearest Lord, expecting till the grief 
Of pleasures brought me to him, readie there 

To be all passengers' most sweet relief? 

Thou, whose glorious, yet contracted light. 
Wrapt in Night's mantle, stole into a manger ; 
Since my dark soul and brutish is thy right, 

To Man of all beasts be not thou a stranger : 

Furnish and deck my soul, that thou mayst have 
A better lodging, then a rack, or grave. 

The shepherds sing ; and shall I silent be ? 

My God no hymne for thee ? 
My soul's a shepherd too : a fleck it feeds 

Of thoughts, and words, and deeds. 
The pasture is thy word ; the streams, thy grace 

Enriching all the place. 
Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers 

Out-sing the day -light houres. 
Then we will chide the sunne for letting night 

Take up his place and right : 
We sing one common Lord ; wherefore he should 

liimseKthe candle hold. 



THE CHURCH. 67 



I will go searching, till I finde a sunne 

Shall stay, till we have done ; 
A wUling shiner, that shall shine as gladly, 

As frost-nipt sunnes look sadly. 
Then we will sing, and shine all our own day, 

And one another pay : 
His beams shall cheer my breast, and both so twine, 
Till ev'n his beams sing, and my musick shine. 



UNGRATEFULNESSE. 

Lord, with what bountie and rare clemencie 

Hast thou redeem' d us from the grave ! 

If thou hadst let us nmne, 

Gladly had man ador'd the sunne, 

And thought his god most brave ; 

Where now we shall be better gods then he. 

Thou hast but two rare cabinets full of treasure, 
The Trinitie, and Incarnation : 
Thou hast unlockt them both, 
And made them jewels to betroth 
The work of thy creation 
Unto thyself in everlasting pleasure. 

The statelier cabinet is the Trinitie, 
Whose sparkling light access denies: 
Therefore thou dost not show 
This fully to us, till death blow 
The dust into our eyes ; 
For by that powder thou wilt make us see. 

But all thy sweets are packt tip in the other ; 
Thy mercies thither flock and flow ; 
That as the first afirights. 
This may allm'e us with delights ; 
Because this boa: we know ; 
For we have all of us just such another, 



68 Herbert's poems. 



But man is close, reserVd, and dark to thee i 
When thou demandest but a heart, 

He cavils instantly. 
In his poor cabinet of bone 
Sinnes have their box apart. 
Defrauding thee, who gavest two for one. 



SIGHS AKD GRONES. 

DO not use me 
After my sinnes ! look not on my desert, 
But on thy glorie ! then thou wUt reform, 
And not refuse me : for thou onely art 
The mighty God, but I a sillie worm : 

do not bruise me ! 

do not ui'ge me ! 
For what account can thy ill steward make ? 
I have abus'd thy stock, destroyed thy woods, 
Suckt all thy magazens : my head did ake. 
Till it found out how to consume thy goods : 

do not scom-ge me ! 

do not blind me ! 
I have deserv'd that an Egyptian night 
Should thicken all my powers ; because my lust 
Hath still sow'd fig-leaves to exclude thy light : 
But I am frailtie, and already dust : 

do not giinde me ! 

do not fill me 
With the turn'd ^dall of thy bitter wrath ! 
For thou hast other vessels full of bloud, 
A part whereof my Saviour emptied hath, 
Ev'n unto death : since he died for my good, 

do not kill me ! 

But reprieve me ! 
For thou hast life and death at thy command; 



THE CHURCH. 69 



Thou art both Judge and Saviour, feast and rod^ 
Cordiall and corrosive : put not thy hand 
Into the bitter box ; but my God, 

My God, reheve me ! 



THE WORLD. 

Love built a stately house : where Fortune came : 
And spuming phansies, she was heard to say, 
That her fine cobwebs did support the frame, 
Whereas they were supported by the same : 
But Wisdome quickly swept them all away. 

Then Pleasure came, who liking not the fashion. 

Began to make Balcones, Terraces, 

Till she had weakned all by alteration : 

But rev' rend laws, and many di. proclamation 

Reformed all at length with menaces. 

Then enter'd Sinne, and with that Sycomore, 
Whose leaves first sheltred man from drought and dew, 
Working and winding slily evermore. 
The inward walls and Sommers cleft and tore : 
But Grace shor'd these, and cut that as it grew. 

Then Sinne combined with Beath in a firm band. 
To rase the building to the very floore : 
Which they efiected, none could them withstand ; 
But Love and Grace took Glorie by the hand. 
And bunt a braver Palace than before. 



COLOSS. iii. 3. 
Our life is hid with Christ in God. 
My words and thoughts do both expresse this notion, 
That Life hath with the sun a double motion. 
The first Is straight, and our diurnall friend ; 
The other Hid, and doth obliquely bend. 



70 HERBERT S POEMS. 



One life is wrapt In flesh, and tends to earth : 
The other winds towards Him, whose happie birth 
Taught me to live here so, That still one eye 
Should aim and shoot at that which Is on high ; 
Quitting with daily labour all My pleasure, 
To gain at harvest an eternall Treasure. 



VANITIE. 

The fleet Astronomer can bore 
And thred the spheres with his quick-piercing minde 
He views their stations, walks from doore to doore, 

Surveys, as if he had design' d 
To make a purchase there : he sees their dances, 

And knoweth long before. 
Both their fuU-ey'd aspects, and secret glances. 

The nimble Diver with his side 
Cuts through the working waves, that he may fetch 
His dearely-earned pearl, which God did hide 

On purpose from the ventrous wretch ; 
That he might save his life, and also hers, 

Who with excessive pride 
Her own destruction and his danger wears. 

The subtil Chymick can devest 
And strip the creature naked, till he finde 
The callow principles within their nest : 

There he imparts to them his minde, 
Admitted to their bed-chamber, before 
They appeare trim and drest 
To ordinarie suitours at the doore. 

What hath not man sought out and found, 
But his deare God ? who yet his glorious law 
Embosomes in us, mellowing the ground 

With showres and frosts, with love and aw ; 
So that we need not say, Where's this command? 

Poore man ! thou searchest round 
To finde out death, but missest life at hand. 



A 



THE CHURCH, 71 



LENT, 

Welcome, deare feast of Lent : who loves not thee, 
He loves not Temperance, or Anthoritie, 

But is compos' d of passion. 
The Scriptures bid us fast; the Church says, now: 
Give to thy Mother what thou wouldst allow 

To ev'ry Coi-poration, 

The humble soul compos' d of love and fear. 
Begins at home, and layes the burden there, 

When doctrines disagree : 
He sayes, in things which use hath justly got, 
I am a scandall to the Church, and not 

The Church is so to me. 

True Christians should be glad of an occasion 
To use their temperance, seeking no evasion, 

When good is seasonable ; 
Unlesse Authoritie, which should increase 
The obHgation in us make it lesse, 

And Power it self disable. 

Besides the cleannesse of sweet abstinence, 
Quick thoughts and motions at a small expense, 

A face not fearing light : 
Whereas in fulnesse there are sluttish fumes, 
Sowre exhalations, and dishonest rheumes, 

Revenging the delight. 

Then those same pendant profits, which the spring 
And Easter intimate, enlarge the thing, 

And goodnesse of the deed. 
Neither ought other men's abuse of Lent 
Spoil the good use ; lest by that argument 

We forfeit all our Creed. 

It's true, we cannot reach Christ's forti'th day ; 
Yet to go part of that rehgious way 
Is better than to rest : 



72 Herbert's poems. 



We cannot reach our Saviour's puritie ; 
Yet are we bid, " Be holy ev'n as heV 
In both let's do our best. 

Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone, 
Is much more sure to meet with him, than one 

That travelleth by-wayes. 
Perhaps my God, though he be farre before, 
May turn, and take me by the hand, and more, 

May strong-then my decayes. 

Yet, Lord, instruct us to improve our fast 
By starving sinne and taking such repast 

As may our faults controll : 
That ev'ry man may revell at his doore. 
Not in his parloiu: ; banquetting the poore. 

And among those his soul. 



VERTUE 

Sweeo? day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 
The bridall of the earth and skie : 
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; 
For thou must die. 

Sweet rose, whose hue angiie and brave 
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, 
Thy root is ever in its grave. 

And thou must die. 

Sweet spring, full of sweet dayes and roses, 
A box where sweets compacted lie. 
My musick shows ye have your closes. 
And all must die. 

Onely a sweet and vertuous soul. 
Like season' d timber, never gives ; 
But though the whole world turn to coal. 
Then chiefly lives. 




The Bri'lal or -he eqrth. ana sjae 
The dc-TT sliall -weep tlij fall toniglit : 
lor ttou Tcust die 

"VeTtile "D . 



THE CHTJKCH, 73 



THE PEARL. 

MATT. XIII. 

. I KNOW the wayes of learning ; both the head 
And pipes that feed the presse, and make it runne ; 
What reason hath from nature borrowed, 
Or of itself, hke a good huswife, spunne 
In laws and policie ; what the starres conspire, 
What willing nature speaks, what forc'd by fire ; 
Both th' old discoveries, and the new-found seas. 
The stock and surplus, cause and historie : 
All these stand open, or I have the keyes : 
Yet I love thee. 

I know the wayes of honour, what maintains 
The quick returns of courtesie and wit : 
In vies of favours whether partie gains. 
When glorie swells the heart, and moldeth it 
To all expressions both of hand and eye. 
Which on the world a true-love-knot may tie, 
And bear the bundle, wheresoe're it goes : 
How many drammes of spirit there must be 
To sell my life unto my friends or foes : 
Yet I love thee. 

I know the wayes of pleasure, the sweet strains, 
The luUings and the relishes of it ; 
The propositions of hot bloud and brains ; 
What mirth and musick mean ; what love and wit 
Have done these twentie hundred yeares, and more-' 
I know the projects of unbridled store: 
My stuflfe is flesh, not brasse ; my senses live, 
And grumble oft, that they have more in me 
Than he that curbs them, being but one to five : 
Yet I love thee. 

I know all these, and have them in my hand: 
Therefore not sealed, but with open eyes 



74 Herbert's poems. 



I flie to thee, and fully understand 
Both the main sale, and the commodities ; 
And at what rate and price I have thy love ; 
With all the circumstances that may move : 
Yet through the labyrinths, not my groveling wit, 
But thy silk twist let down from heav'n to me, 
Did both conduct and teach me, how by it 
To climb to thee. 



AFFLICTIOK 

Broken in pieces all asunder, 

Lord, hunt me not, 
A thing forgot, 
Once a poore creature, now a wonder, 
A wonder tortur'd in the space 
Betwixt this world and that of grace. 

My thoughts are all a case of knives. 
Wounding my heart 
With scatter' d smart ; 
As watring pots give flowers their lives. 
Nothing their furie can controU, 
While they do wound and prick my souL 

All my attendants are at strife, 
Quitting their place 
Unto my face : 
Nothing performs the task of life: 
The elements are let loose to fight, 
And while I live, trie out their right. 

Oh help, my God ! let not then- plot 
Kill them and me, 
And also thee. 
Who art my life : dissolve the knot. 

As the sunne scatters by his light 
All the rebellions of the night. 



THE CHURCH. 75 



Then shall those powers, which work for grief, 
Enter thy pay, 
And day by day 
Labour thy praise, and my relief ; 

With care and courage building me, 
Till I reach heav'n, and much more thee. 



MAN. 

My God, I heard this day 
That none doth build a stately habitation 
But he that means to dwell therein. 
What house more stately hath there been, 
Or can be, then is Man ? to whose creation 
All things are in decay. 

For Man is ev'ry thing. 

And more : He is a tree, yet bears no fruit ; 

A beast, yet is, or should be more : 

Reason and speech we onely bring. 

Parrats may thank us, if they are not mute, 

They go upon the score. 

Man is all symmetrie. 
Full of proportions, one limbe to another, 
And all to all the world besides : 
Each part may call the farthest, brother : 
For head with foot hath private amitie, 
And both with moons and tides. 

Nothing hath got so farre. 
But Man hath caught and kept it, as his prey. 
His eyes dismount the highest starre : 
He is in little all the sphere. 
Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they 
Finde their acquaintance there. 

For us the windes do blow ; 
The earth doth rest, heav'n move, and fountains flow. 



76 Herbert's poems. 



Nothing we see, but means our good, 
As our deliglot, or as our treasure : 
The whole is, either our cupboard oifood. 
Or cabinet oi pleasure. 
The starres have us to bed ; 
Night draws the curtain, which the sunne withdraws ; 
Musick and light attend our head. 
All things unto OMrJlesh are kinde 
In their descent and being; to our minde 
In their ascent and cause. 
Each thing is full of dutie : 
Waters united are our navigation ; 
Pistinguished, our habitation ; 
Below, our drink ; above, our meat : 
Both are o\m cleanlinesse. Hath one such beautie ? 
Then how are all things neat ! 
More servants wait on Man, 
Than he'l take notice of : in eVry path 

He treads down that which doth befriend him, 
When sicknesse makes him pale and wan. 
Oh mightie love ! Man is one world, and hath 
Another to attend him. 
Since then, my God, thou hast 
So brave a Palace built ; dwell in it, 
That it may dwell with thee at last ! 
Till then, afford us so much wit ; 
That, as the world serves us, we may serve thee, 
And both thy servants be. 



ANTIPHON. 

Chor. Praised be the God of love, 
Men. Here below, 
Angels. And here above : 

Chor. Who hath dealt his mercies so, 
Ang. To his friend. 
Men. And to his foe : 



THE CHtmCH. 



(Jhor. That both grace and glorie tend 

Ang. Us of old, 

Men. And us in th' end. 
Chor. The great Shepherd of the fold 

Ang. Us did make, 

Men. For us was sold. 

Chor. He our foes in pieces brake : 

Ang. Him we touch ; 

Men. And him we take. 
Chor. Wherefore since that he is such, 

Ang. We adore. 

Men. And we do crouch. 

Chor. Lord, thy praises should be more. 
Men. We have none, 
Ang. And we no store. 

Chor. Praised be the God alone 

Who hath made of two folds one. 



UNKINDNESSE. 

Lord, make me coy and tender to offend : 
In friendship, first I think, if that agree, 

Which I intend, 
Unto my friends intent and end. 
I would not use a friend, as I use Thee. 

If any touch my friend, or his good name, 
It is my honour and my love to free 

His blasted fame 
From the least spot or thought of blame. 
I could not use a friend, as I use Thee. 

My friend may spit upon my curious floore : 
Would he have gold ? I lend it instantly ; 

But let the poore. 
And thou within them starve at doore. 
I cannot use a friend, as I use Thee. 



78 Herbert's poems. 



When that my friend pretendeth to a place. 
I quit my interest, and leave it free : 

But when thy grace 
Sues for my heart, I thee displace ; 
Nor would I use a friend, as I use Thee. 

Yet can a friend what thou hasb done fulfill ? 
write in brass, My God upon a tree 

His bloud did spill, 
Onely to purchase my good will : 
Yet use I not my foes, as I use Thee. 



LIFE. 



1 MADE a posie, whOe the day ran by : 
Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie 

My life within this baud. 
But Time did becken to the flowers, and they 
By noon most cunningly did steal away. 

And wither' d in my hand. 

My hand was next to them, and then my heart ; 
I took, without more thinking, in good part 

Time's gentle admonition ; 
Who did so sweetly death's sad taste convey, 
Making my minde to smell my fatall day. 

Yet sugring the suspicion. 

Farewell, dear flowers, sweetly your time ye spent, 
Fit, while ye lived, for smell or ornament. 

And after death for cm-es. 
I follow straight without complaints or grief, 
Since if my scent be good, I care not, if 

It be as short as yours. 



THE CHURCH. 79 



SUBMISSIOK 

But that thou art my wisdome, Lord, 
And both mine eyes are thine, 

My minde would be extreamly stirr' 
For missing my designe. 

Were it not better to bestow 

Some place and power on me ? 

Then should thy praises with me grow, 
And share in my degree. 

But when I thus dispute and grieve, 

I do resume my sight; 
And pilfring what I once did give, 

Disseize thee of thy right. 

How know I, if thou shouldst me raise, 
That I should then raise thee ? 

Perhaps great places and thy praise 
Do not so well agree. 

Wherefore unto my gift I stand ; 

I will no more advise : 
Onely do thou lend me a hand, 

Since thou hast both mine eyes. 



JUSTICE. 

I CANNOT skill of these thy ways : 
Lord^ thou didst make me, yet you woundest me : 
Lord, thou dost wound me, yet thou dost relieve me : 
Lord, thou relievest, yet I die by thee : 
Lord J thou dost kill me, yet thou dost reprieve me. 

But when I mark my life and praise, 
Thy justice me most fitly payes : 



80 HERBERT S POEMS. 



For, / do praise thee, yet I praise thee not: 
My prayers mean thee, yet my prayers stray , 
I would do well, yet sinne the hand hath got 
My soul doth love thee, yet it loves delay. 
I cannot skill of these my ways. 



CHARMS AND KNOTS. 

Who reade a chapter when they rise, 
Shall ne're be troubled with ill eyes. 

A poore man's rod, when thou dost ride, 
Is both a weapon and a guide. 

Who shuts his hand, hath lost his gold : 
Who opens it, hath it twice told. 

Who goes to bed, and doth not pray, 
Maketh two nights to ev'ry day. 

Who by aspersions throw a stone 
At th'.head of others, hit their own. 

Who looks on ground with humble eyes, 
Findes himself there, and seeks to rise. 

When th' hair is sweet through pride or last, 
The powder doth forget the dust. 

Take one from ten, and what remains ? 
Ten still, if sermons go for gains. 

In shallow waters heav'n doth show : 
But who drinks on to hell may go. 



AFFLICTION. 

My God, I read this day, 
That planted Paradise was not so firm 
As was and is thy floting Ark ; whose stay 
And anchor thou art onely, to confirm 



THE CHURCH. 81 



And strengthen it in ev'iy age, 
When waves do rise, and tempests rage. 

At first we liv'd in pleasure ; 
Thine own delights thou didst to us impart : 
Wlien we gi*ew wanton, thou didst use displeasure 
To make us thine : yet that we might not part. 
As we at first did board with thee, 
Now thou wouldst taste our miserie. 

There is but joy and giief ; 
If either will convert us, we are thine : 
Some Angels us'd the first ; if our relief 
Take up the second, then thy double line 
And sev'rall baits in either kinde 
Fumisli thy table to tliy minde. 

Affliction then is ours ; 
We axe the trees, whom shaking fastens more, 
While blustring windes destroy the wanton bowres, 
And ruffle all their curious knots and store. 
My God, so temper joy and wo. 
That thy bright beams may tame thy bow. 



MORTIFICATION 

How soon doth man decay ! 
When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets 
To swaddle infants, whose young breath 

Scarce knows the way ; 
Those clouts are little winding sheets, 
Which do consigne and send them imto deatli. 

When boyes go first to bed. 
They step into their voluntarie graves ; 

Sleep binds them fast ; onely their breath 

Makes them not dead. 
Successive nights, like rolling waves, 
Convey them quickly, Avho are bound for death. 

p 



62 Herbert's poems. 



When youth is frank and free, 
And calls for miisick, while his veins do swell, 
All day exchanging mirth and breath 

In companie ; 
That musick summons to the knell, 
Which shall befriend him at the house of death. 

When man grows staid and wise. 
Getting a house and home, where he may move 
Within the circle of his breath, 

Schoolmg his eyes ; 
That dumbe inclosure maketh love 
Unto the coflfin, that attends his death. 

When age grows low and weak. 
Marking his grave and thawing ev'ry yeare, 
Till all do melt, and drown his breath 

When he would speak ; 
A chair or litter shows the biere, 
Which shall convey him to the house of death. 

Man, ere he is aware. 
Hath put together a solemnitie. 

And drest his herse, while he has breath 

As yet to spare. 
Yet, Lord, instruct us so to die 
That all these dyings may be life in death. 



DECAY. 



Sweet were the dayes, when thou didst lodge with Lot, 
Struggle with Jacob, sit with Gideon, 
Advise with Abraham, when thy power could ii^^t 
Encounter Moses' strong complaints and moan : 
Thy words were then, Let me alone. 

One might have sought and found thee presently 
At some fair oak, or bush, or cave, or well ; 



I 

i 




«^^s 



VTi II g- gj i-'Afi low ajid. Treak 
Aful^ajij Lib ^rave ai^d, Oxsa^^m.^ eYdTy yeaxe, 
SlJ dll do Taelt aud drown. Ins "breatli 
'/Thet Le woTild speak; 

Kortilic aiion p . B 3 . 



THE CHURCH. 83 



Is mj God this way ? No, they would reply ; 
He is to Sinai gone, as we heard tell : 

List, ye may heare great Aaron's bell. 

But now thou dost thyself immure and close 
In some one corner of a feeble heart : 
Where yet both Sinne and Satan, thy old foes, 
Do pinch and straiten thee, and use much art 
To gain thy thirds and little part. 

I see the world grows old, when as the heat 
Of thy great love once spread, as in an urn 
Doth closet up itself, and still retreat, 
Cold sinne still forcing it, till it return 

And calling Justice, all things burn. 



MISERIE. 

Lord, let the Angels praise thy name. 
Man is a foolish thing, a foolish thing. 
Folly and Sinne play all his game. 
His house still burns ; and yet he still doth sing, 
Man is but grasse, 
\ He knows it, Jill the glasse. 

How canst thou brook his foolishnesse ? 
Why, he'l not lose a cup of drink for thee: 

Bid him but temper his excesse ; 
Not he : he knows, where he can better be, 
As he will swear. 
Then to serve thee in fear. 

What strange pollutions doth he wed. 

And make his o^vn ? as if none knew, but he. 

No man shall beat into his head 
That thou within his curtains drawn canst see : 
They are of cloth. 
Where never yet came moth. 



84 Herbert's poems. 



The best of men, turn but thy hand 
For one poore mmute, stumble at a pinne : 

They would not have their actions scann'd 
Nor any sorrow tell them that they sinne, 
Though it be small, 
And measure not their fall. 

They quarrell thee, and would give over 
The bargain made to serve thee : but thy love 

Holds them unto it, and doth cover 
Their follies with the wing of thy milde Dove, 
Not suff 'ring those 
Who would, to be thy foes. 

My God, Man cannot praise thy name : 
Thou art all brightnesse, perfect puritie : 

The sunne holds down Ms head for shame, 
Dead with eclipses, when we speak of thee. 
How shall infection 
Presume on thy perfection ? 

As dirtie hands foul all they touch. 
And those things most, which are most pure and fine 

So our clay hearts, eVn when we crouch 
To sing thy praises, make them lesse divine. 
Yet either this, 
Or none thy portion is. 

Man cannot serve thee ; let him go 
And serve the swine : there, there is his delight : 

He doth not like this vertue, no ; 
Give him his dirt to wallow in all night ; 

These Preachers make 
His head to shoot and ake. 

Oh foolish man ! where are thine eyes ? 
How hast thou lost them in a crowd of cares ? 

Thou pull'st the rug, and wilt not rise. 
No not to purchase the whole pack of starres ; 
There let them shine, 
Thou must go sleep, or dine. 



THE CHURCH. 85 



The bird that sees a daintie bowre 
Made in the tree, where she was wont to sit, 

Wonders and sings, but not his power 
Who made the arbour : this exceeds her wit. 
But Man doth know 
The spring, whence all things flow 

And yet as though he knew it not, 
Uis knowledge winks, and lets his humours reigne : 

They make his life a constant blot, 
And all the bloud of God to run in vain. 

Ah, wretch ! what verse 
Can thy strange wayes rehearse ? 

Indeed at first Man was a treasure, 
A box of jewels, shop of rarities, 

A ring, whose posie was, My pleasure : 
He was a garden in a Paradise : 

Glorie and grace 
Did crown his heart and face. 

But sinne hath fool'd him. Now he is 
A lump of flesh, without a foot or wing 

To raise him to the glimpse of blisse : 
A sick toss'd vessel, dashing on each thing ; 
Nay, his own shelf : 
My God, I mean myself. 



JORDAN. 

When first my lines of heav'nly joyes made mention. 
Such was their lustre, they did so excell. 
That I sought out quaint words, and trim invention ; 
My thoughts began to burnish, sprout, and swell. 
Curling with metaphors a plain intention, 
Decking the sense, as if it were to sell. 

Thousands of notions in my brain did runne, 
Off 'ring their service, if I were not sped: 



Herbert's poems. 



I often blotted what I had begimne ; 
This was not quick enough, and that was dead. 
Nothing could seem too rich to clothe the sunne, 
Much lesse those joyes which trample on his head. 

As flames do work and winde, when they ascend ; 
So did I weave myself into the sense. 
But while I bustled, I might hear a friend 
Whisper, How wide is all this long pretence I 
There is in love a sweetnesse ready penn'd : 
Copie out onely that, and save expense. 



PRAYER 

Of what an easie quick accesse. 
My blessed Lord, art thou ! how suddenly 

JMay our requests thine eare invade ! 
To shew that state dislikes not easinesse, 
If I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made : 
Thou canst no more not heare, than thou canst die. 

Of what supreme almightie power 
Is thy great arm which spans the east and west, 

And tacks the centre to the sphere ! 
By it do all things live their measur'd houre : 
We cannot ask the thing, which is not there, 
Blaming the shallownesse of our request. 

Of what unmeasurable love 
Art thou possest, who, when thou couldst not die, 

Wert fain to take our flesh and curse, 
And for our sakes in person sinne reprove ; 
That by destroying that which ty'd thy pm-se. 
Thou mightst make way for liberalitie ! 

Since then these three wait; on thy throne, 
Ease, Power, and Love ; I valii.e prayer so. 



THE CHURCH. 87 



That were I to leave all but one, 
Wealth, fame, endowments, vertues, all should go ; 
I and deare prayer would together dwell. 
And quickly gain, for each inch lost, an ell. 



OBEDIENCK 

My God, if writings may 
Convey a Lordship any way 
Whither the buyer and the seller please ; 

Let it not thee displease. 
If this poore paper do as much as they. 

On it my heart doth bleed 
As many lines, as there doth need 
To pass itself and all it hath to thee. 

To which I do agree. 
And here present it as my speciall deed. 

If that hereafter Pleasiu-e 
Cavill, and claim her part and measure, 
As if this passed with a reservation. 

Or some such words in fashion ; 
I here exclude the wrangler from thy treasure. 

let thy sacred will 

All thy delight in me fulfill ! 

Let me not think an action mine own way. 

But as thy love shall sway. 
Resigning up the rudder to thy skill. 

Lord, what is man to thee. 
That thou shouldst minde a rotten tree ? 
Yet since thou canst not choose but see my actions ; 

So great are thy perfections. 
Thou mayst as well my actions guide, as see. 

Besides, thy death and bloud 
Show'd a strange love to all our good : 



88 Herbert's poems. 

Thy sorrows were in earnest ; no faint proffer, 

Or superficial! oSei 
Of what we might not take, or be withstood. 

Yv^herefore I all forego : 
To one word onely I say, No : 
Where in the deed there was an intimation 

Of a gift or donation. 
Lord, let it now by way of purchase go. 

He that will passe his land, 
As I have mine, may set his hand 
And heart unto this deed, when he hath read ; - 

And make the purchase spread 
To both our goods, if he to it will stand. 

How happie were my part. 
If some kinde man would thrust his heart 
Into these lines ; till in heav'n's court of rolls 

They were by winged souls 
Entred for both, farre above their desert ! 



CONSCIENCE. 
Peace, pratler, do not lowre : 
Not a fair look, but thou dost call it foul : 
Not a sweet dish, but thou dost call it sowre : 
Musick to thee doth howl. 
By listning to thy chatting fears 
I have both lost mine eyes and eares. 
Pratler, no more, I say: 
My thoughts must work, but like a noiselesse sphere, 
Harmonious peace must rock them all the day : 
No room for pratlers there. 
If thou persistest, I will tell thee. 
That I have physick to expell thee. 
And the receit shall be 
My Saviour's bloud ; whenever at his board 
I do but taste it, straight it cleanseth me, 



THE CHURCH. 89 



And leaves thee not a word ; 
No, not a tooth or nail to scratch, 
And at my actions carp, or catch. 

Yet if thou talkest still, 

Besides my physick, know there's some for thee: 

Some wood and nails to make a staffe or bill 

For those that trouble me : 

The bloudie cross of my deare Lord 

Is both my physick and my sword. 



SION. 

Lord, with what glorie wast thou serVd of old, 
When Solomon's temple stood and flourished ! 

"Where most things were of purest gold ; 

The wood was all embellished 
With flowers and carvings mysticall and rare : 
All show'd the builder's, crav'd the seer's care. 

Yet all this glorie, all this pomp and state, 

Did not affect thee much, was not thy aim : 
Something there was that sow'd debate : 
Wherefore thou quitt'st thy ancient claim: 

And now thy Architecture meets with sinne ; 

For all thy frame and fabrick is within. 

There thou art struggling with a peevish heart. 
Which sometimes crosseth thee, thou sometimes it ; 

The fight is hard on either part. 

Great God doth fight, he doth submit. 
All Solomon's sea of brass and world of stone 
Is not so deare to thee as one good grone. 

And truly brasse and stones are heavie things, 
Tombes for the dead, not temples fit for thee : 

But grones are x^uick, and full of wings, 

And all their motions upward be ; 
And ever as they mount, like larks they sing : 
The note is sad, yet musick for a king. 



HERBERT S POEMS. 



HOME. 

Come, Lord, my head doth burn, my heart is sick, 

While thou dost ever, ever stay: 
Thy long deferrings wound me to the quick, 
My spirit gaspeth night and day. 

show thy self to me. 
Or take me up to thee ! 

How canst thou stay, considering the pace 

The bloud did make, which thou didst waste ? 

When I behold it trickling down thy face, 
I never saw thing make such haste. 
show thy self, &c. 

When man was lost, thy pitie lookt about. 
To see what help in th' earth or skie : 

But there was none ; at least no help without : 
The help did in thy bosome lie. 

show thy self, &c. 

There lay thy Sonne : and must he leave that nest, 
That hive of sweetnesse, to remove 

Thraldome from those, who would not at a feast 
Leave one poor apple for thy love ? 
show thy self, &c. 

He did, he came : my Redeemer deare. 
After all this canst thou be strange ? 

So many yeares baptiz'd, and not appeare ; 
As if thy love could fail or change ? 
show thy self, &c. 

Yet if thou stayest still, why must I stay ? 

My God, what is this world to me ? 
This world of wo? hence, all ye clouds, away, 

Away ; I must get up and see. 
show thy self, &c. 



THE CHURCH. 91 



What is this weary world ; this meat and drink, 

That chains us by the teeth so fast ? 
What is this woman-kinde, which I can wink 
Into a blacknesse and distaste ? 

show thy self to me, ' 
Or take me up to thee ! 

With one sro,all sigh thou gav'st me th' other day 

I blasted all the joyes about me : 
And scouling on them as they pin'd away, 

Now come again, said I, and flout me, 
show thy self, &c. 
Nothing but drought and dearth, but bush and brake. 

Which way soe're I look, I see. 
Some may dream merrily, but when they wake. 

They dresse themselves and come to thee. 
show thy self, &c. 
We talk of harvests ; there are no such things, 

But when we leave our corn and hay: 
There is no fruitfull yeare, but that which brings 

The last and lov'd, though dreadfuU day. 
show thy self, &c. 

Oh loose this frame, this knot of man untie ! 

That my free soul may use her wing, 
Which now is pinion' d with mortalitie. 

As an intangled, hamper' d thing. 
show thy self, &c. 

What have I left, that I should stay and grone ? 

The most of me to heav'n is fled : 
My thoughts and joyes are all packt up and gone. 

And for their old acquaintance plead. 
show thy self, &c. 

Come, dearest Lord, passe not this holy season. 
My flesh and bones and joynts do pray : 

And ev'n my verse, when by the ryme and reason 
The word is. Stay, says ever. Come. 
show thy self, &c. 



92 Herbert's poems. 



THE BRITISH CHURCH. 

I JOT, deare Mother, when I view 
Thy perfect lineaments, and hue 

Both sweet and bright 

Beautie in thee takes up her place. 
And dates her letters from thy face, 

When she doth write. 

A fine aspect in fit aray, 
Neither too mean, nor yet to gay. 

Shows who is best : 

Outlandish looks may not compare ; 
For all they either painted are. 

Or else undrest. 

She on the hills, which wantonly 
Alliu:eth all in hope to be 

By her preferr'd, 

Hath kiss'd so long her painted shrines, 
That ev'n her face by kissing shines. 
For her reward. 

She in the valley is so shie 

Of dressing, that her hair doth lie 

About her eares : 

While she avoids her neighbour's pride, 
She wholly goes on th' other side. 

And nothing wears. 

But, dearest Mother, (what those missej 
The mean thy praise and glorie is. 

And long may be. 

Blessed be God, whose love it was 
To double-moat thee with his gi-ace, 

And none but thee. 



THE CHURCH. 



THE QUIP. 

The merrie world did on a day 
With his train-bands and mates agree 
To meet together, where I lay, 
And all in sport to geere at me. 

First, Beautie crept into a rose ; 
Which when I pluckt not, Sir, said she, 
Tell me, I pray, Whose hands are those ? 
But thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. 

Then Money came, and chinking still. 
What tune is this, poore man? said he: 
I heard in Musick you had skill : 
But thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. 

Then came brave Glorie puffing by 
In silks that whistled, who but he ! 
He scarce alloVd m^ half an eie : 
But thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. 

Then came quick Wit and Conversation, 
And he would needs a comfort be, 
And, to be short, make an oration : 
But thou «halt answer, Lord, for me. 

Yet when the houre of thy designe 
To answer these fine things shaU come ; 
Speak not at large, say, I am thine. 
And then they have their answer home. 



YANITIE. 
PooRE silly soul, whose hope and head lies low ; 
Whose fiat delights on earth do creep and grow : 
To whom the starres shine not so fair, as eyes ; 
Nor sohd work, as false embroyderies ; 
Hark and beware, lest what vou now do measure. 
And write for sweet, prove a most sowre displeasure. 



94 Herbert's poems. 



heare betimes, lest thy relenting 

May come too late ! 
To purchase heaven for repenting 

Is no hard rate. 
If souls be made of earthly mould, 

Let them love gold ; 

If born on high, 
Let them imto their kindred fiie : 
For they can never be at rest, 
Till they regain their ancient nest. 
Then silly soul take heed ; for earthly joy 
Is but a bubble, and makes thee a boy. 



THE DAWNING. 

Awake, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns : 

Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth, 
Unfold thy forehead gather' d into frowns : 

Thy Saviour comes, and with him mirth : 
Awake, awake ; 
And with a thankfull heart his comforts take. 

But thou dost still lament, and pine, and crie ; 

And feel his death, but not his victorie. 

Arise, sad heart ; if thou dost not withstand,- 

Clii"ist's resurrection thine may be : 
Do not by hanging down break from the hand, 

Which as it riseth, raiseth thee ; 

Arise, arise ; 
And with his buriall-linen drie thine eyes. 

Christ left his grave-clothes, that we might, when grief 

Draws tears, or bloud, not want an handkerchief. 



JESU. 
Jbsu is in my heart, his sacred name 
Is deeply carved there ; but th' other week 



THE CHURCH. 35 



A great affliction broke the little frame, 
Ev'n all to pieces ; which I went to seek: 
And first I found the corner where was J, 
After, where ES, and next where U was graved. 
When I had got these parcels, instantly 
I sat me down to spell them, and perceived 
That to my broken heart he was / ease you, 
And to my whole is JESU, 



• BUSINESSE. 

Canst be idle ? canst thou play. 
Foolish soul who sinn'd to-day? 

Rivers run, and springs each one 
Know their home, and get them gone ; 
Hast thou tears, or hast thou none ? 

If, poore soul, thou hast no tears ; 
Would thou hadst no faults or fears I 
Who hath these, those ill forbears. 

Windes still work : it is their plot. 

Be the season cold, or hot : 

Hast thou sighs, or hast thou not ? 

If thou hast no sighs or grones. 
Would thou hadst no flesh or bones ! 
Lesser pains scape greater ones. 

But if yet thou idle be, 
Foohsh soul. Who died for thee ? 

Who did leave his Father's throne, 
To assume thy flesh and bone ? 
Had he life, or had he none ? 

If he had not liv'd for thee, 
Thou hadst died most wretchedly ; 
And two deaths had been thy fee. 



96 HERBERT S POEMS. 



He SO farre thy good did plot, 
That his own self he forgot. 
Pid he die, or did he not i 

If he had not died for thee, 
Thou hadst liv'd in miserie. 
Two lives worse than ten deaths be. 

And hath any space of breath 
'Twixt his sinnes and Saviour's death? 

He that loseth gold, though drosse. 
Tells to all hje meets, his crosse : 
He that sinnes, hath he no losse ? 

He that findes a silver vein. 
Thinks on it, and thinks again : 
Brings thy Saviour's death no gain ? 

Who in heart not ever kneels, 
Neither sinne nor Saviour feels. 



DIALOGUE. 

Sweetest Saviour, if my soul 

Were but worth the having, 
Quickly should I then controll 

Any thought of waving. 
But when all my care and pains 
Cannot give the name of gains 
To thy wretch so full of stains ; 
What delight or hope remains ? 

What (childe), is the hallance thine, 

Thine the poise and measure i 
If I say, Thou shalt he mine, 

Finger not my treasure. 
What the gains vn having thee 
Do amount to, onely he. 
Who for man was sold, can see, 
That transferfd th' accou7its to vit. 



THE CHURCH. 97 



But as I can see no merit, 
Leading to this favour : 
So the way to fit me for it, 
Is beyond my savour. 
As the reason then is thine ; 
So the way is none of mine : 
I disclaim the whole designe : 
Sinne disclaims and I resigne. 

That is all, if that I could 
Get without repining ; 
And my clay my creature would 
Follow my resigning : 
That as I did freely part 
With my glorie and desert, 

Left alljoyes to feel all smart 

Ah! no more : thou break' st my heart. 



DULNESSE. 

Why do I languish thus, drooping and dull, 

As if I were all earth 'I 
Oh give me quicknesse, that I may with mirtb 
Praise thee brim-full ! 

The wanton lover in a curious strain 

Can praise his fahest fah ; 
And with quaint metaphors her curl'd hair 
Curl o'er again: 

Thou art my lovelinesse, my life, my light, 

Beautie alone to me : 
Thy bloudy death and mideserv'd, makes thee 
Pure red and white. 

When all perfections as but one appeare, 
That those thy form doth show, 
The very dust where thou dost tread and go 
Makes beauties here ; 



98 HERBERT S POEMS. 



Where are my lines then? my approaches? views? 

Where are my window-songs ? 
Lovers are still pretending, and eVn wrongs 
Sharpen then- Muse. 

But I am lost in flesh, whose sugred lyes 
Still mock me, and grow bold : 
Sure thou didst put a minde there, if I could 
Finde where it lies. 

Lord, cleare thy gift, that with a constant wit, 

I may but look towards thee : 
Look onely ; for to love thee, who can be, 
What anscel fit? 



LOVE-JOY. 

As on a window late I cast mine eye, 
I saw a vine drop grapes with / and G 
Anneal'd on every bunch. One standing by 
Ask'd what it meant. I (who am never loth 
To spend my judgement) said. It seem'd tc me 
To be the bodie and the letters both 
Of Joy and Charitie; Sir, you have not miss'd, 
The man reply'd ; It figiu-es JESUS CHRIST. 



PROVIDENCE. 

SACRED Providence, who from end to end 
Strongly and sweetly movest ! shall I write. 
And not of thee, through whom my fingers bend 
To hold my quill ? shall they not do thee right ? 

Of all the creatm-es both in sea and land, 
Onely to Man thou hast made known thy wayes, 
And put the penne alone into his hand. 
And made him Secretarie of thy praise. 



THE CHURCH. 99 



Beasts fain would sing ; birds dittie to tiieir notes ; 
Trees would be tuning on their native lute 
To thj renoAvn : but all their hands and throats 
Are brought to Man^ while they are lame and mute. 

Man is the world's high Priest : he doth jiresent 

The sacrifice for all ; while they below 

Unto the service mutter an assent, 

Such as springs use that fall, and windes that blow. 

He that to praise and laud thee doth refrain, 
Doth not refrain unto himself alone, 
But robs a thousand who wou]d praise thee fain ; 
And doth commit a world of sinno in one. 

The beasts say. Eat me ; but, if beasts must teach, 
The tongue is yours tc eat, but mine to praise. 
The trees say, Pidl me : but the hand you stretch 
Is mine to write, as it is youi'S to raise. 

Wherefore, most sacred Spirit, I here present 
For me and all my fellows praise to thee : 
And just it is that I should pay the rent, 
Because the benefit accrues to me. 

We all acknowledge both thy power and love 
To be exact, transcendent, and divine ; 
Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move, 
While all things have their will, yet none but thine. 

For either thy command or thy permissio7i 
Lay hands on all : they are thy rirj]it and left : 
The first puts on with speed and expedition ; 
The other curbs sinnes stealing pace and theft : 

Nothing escapes them both : all must appeare. 
And be dispos'd and dress'd and tun'd by thee. 
Who sweetly temper' st all. If we could heare 
Thy skill and art, what musick would it be ! 

Thou art in small things great, not small in any : 
Thy even praise can neither rise, nor fall. 



inn Herbert's poems. 



Thou art in all things one, in each thing many : 
For thou art infinite in one and all. 

Tempests are calm to thee, they know thy hand, 
And hold it fast, as children do their fathers, . 
Which crie and follow. Thou hast made poore sand 
Check the proud sea, ev'n when it swells and gathers. 

Thy cupboard serves the world : the meat is set. 
Where all may reach : no beast but knows his feed. 
Birds teach us hawking : fishes have their net : 
The great prey on the lesse, they on some weed 

Nothing ingendred doth prevent his meat ; 
Flies have their table spread, ere they appeare ; 
Some creatures have in T\dnter what to eat ; 
Others do sleep, and envie not their cheer. 

How finely dost thou times and seasons spin 
And make a twist checker' d with night and day ! 
Which as it lengthens windes, and windes us in, 
As bonis go on, but turning all the way. 

Each creature hath a wisdome for his good. 
The pigeons feed their tender ofispring, crying. 
When they are callow ; but withdi-aw their food, 
When they are fledge, that need may teach them flying 

Bees work for man ; and yet they never braise 
Their master's flower, but leave it, having done, 
As fair as ever, and as fit to use : 
So both the flower doth stay, and honey run. 

Sheep eat the gi'asse, and dung the ground for more : 
Trees after bearing drop their leaves for soil : 
Springs vent their streams, and by expense get store : 
Clouds cool by heat, and baths by coolmg boil. 

Who hath the vertue to expresse the rare 
And curious vertues both of herbs and stones ? 
Is there an herb for that ? that thy care 
Would show a root, that gives expressions ! 



THE CHURCH. 101 



And if an herb hath power, what hath the starres ? 
A rose, besides his beauty, is a cure. 
Doubtlesse our plagues and plentie, peace and warres, 
Are there much surer than our art is sure. 

Thou hast hid metals : man may take them thence ; 
But at his perill : when he digs the place. 
He makes a grave ; as if the thing had sense, 
And threatned man, that he should fill the space. 

Ev'n poysons praise thee. Should a thing be lost ? 
Should creatures want, for want of heed their due ? 
Since where are poysons, antidotes are most ; 
The help stands close, and keeps the fear in view. 

The sea, which seems to stop the traveller, 
Is by a ship the speedier passage made. 
The windes, who think they rule the mariner, 
Are rul'd by him, and taught to serve his trade. 

And as thy house is full, so I adore 

Thy curious art in marshalling thy goods. 

The hills with health abound, the vales with store ; 

The South with marble ; North with f urres and woods. 

Hard things are glorious ; easie things good cheap ; 
The common all men have ; that which is rare. 
Men therefore seek to have, and care to keep. 
The healthy frosts with summer-fruits compare. 

Light without winde is glasse : warm without weight 
Is wooll and furres : cool without closenesse, shade : 
Speed without pains, a horse : tall without height, 
A servile hawk : low without losse, a spade. 

All countries have enough to serve their need : 
If they seek fine things, thou dost make them run 
For their ofience ; and then dost turn their speed 
To be commerce and trade from sunne to sunne. 

Nothing wears clothes, but Man ; nothing doth need 
But he to wear them. Nothing useth fire, 



102 HERBERT S P0E:\IS. 



But Man alone^ to show his heav'nly breed : 
And onely he hath fuell in desire. 

When th' earth was dry, thou mad'st a sea of wet : 
When that lay gather' d, thou didst broach the mountains : 
Wlien yet some places could no moisture get, 
Thewindes grewgard'ners, and the clouds good fountains. 

Rain, do not hm't my flowers ; but gently spend 
Your hony drops : presse not to smell them here ; 
When they are ripe, their odour will ascend 
And at your lodging with then- thanks appeare. 

How harsh are thorns to pears ! and yet they make 
A better hedge, and need less reparation. 
How smooth are silks compared with a stake. 
Or with a stone ! yet make no good foundation 

Sometimes thou dost divide thy gifts to man, 
Sometimes unite. The Indian nut alone 
Is clothing, meat and trencher, drink and kan, 
Boat, cable, sail and needle, all in one. 

Most herbs that grow in brooks, are hot and dry. 
Cold fruits warm kernells help against the winde. 
The lemmon's juice and rinde cure mutually. 
The whey of milk doth loose, the milk doth binde. 

Thy creatures leap not, but expresse a feast, 
Where all the guests sit close, and nothing wants. 
Frogs marry fish and flesh ; bats, bird and beast ; 
Sponges, non-sense and sense; mines, th' earth and planta 

To show thou art not bound, as if thy lot 
Were worse than ours, sometimes thou shiftest hands. 
Most things move th' under-jaw ; the Crocodile not. 
Most things sleep lying, th' Elephant leans or stands. 

But who hath praise enough? nay, who hath any ? 
None can expresse thy works, but he that knows them; 
And none can know thy works, which are so many, 
And so complete, but onely he that owes them. 



THE CHURCH. 103 



All things that are, though they have sev'rall waves, 
Yet in their being joyn with one advice 
To honour thee : and so I give thee praise 
In all my other hymnes, but in this twice. 

Each thing that is, although in use and name 
It go for one, hath many wayes in store 
To honour thee ; and so each hymne thy fame 
Extolleth many wayes, yet this one more. 



HOPE. 



I GAVE to Hope a watch of mine : but he 

An anchor gave to me. 
Then an old prayer-book I did present ; 

And he an optick sent. 
With that T gave a viall full of tears ; 

But he a few gi^een eares. 
Ah Loyterer ! I'le no more, no more I'le bring 

I did expect a ring. 



SINNE'S ROUND. 

SoRRiE I am, my God, sorrie I am. 

That my offences course it in a ring. 

My thoughts are working like a busie flame, 

Untill their cockatrice they hatch and bring : 

And when they once have perfected their draughts, 

My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts. 

My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts. 

Which spit it forth like the Sicilian hill. 

They vent the wares, and passe them with their faults, 

And by their breathing ventilate the ill. 

But words suffice not, where are lewd intentions : 

My hands do joyn to finish the inventions : 



104 Herbert's poems. 



My hands do joyn to finish the inventions : 
And so my sinnes ascend three stories high, 
As Babel grew before there were dissentions. 
Yet ill deeds loyter not : for they siipplie 
New thoughts of sinning ; wherefore, to my sham( 
Sorrie I am, my God, sorrie I am. 



TIME. 



Meeting with Time, slack thing, said I, 

Thy sithe is dull ; whet it for shame. 

No marvell Sir, he did replie, 

If it at length deserve some blame : 
But where one man would have me grinde it, 
Twentie for one too sharp do finde it. 

Perhaps some such of old did passe. 

Who above all things loVd this life ; 

To whom thy sithe a hatchet was. 

Which now is but a pruning-knife. 

Christ's coming hath made man thy debter, 
Since by thy cutting he grows better. 

And in his blessing thou art blest : 
For where thou onely wert before 
An executioner at best. 
Thou art a gard'ner now, and more. 
An usher to convey our souls 
Beyond the utmost starres and poles. 

And this is that makes life so long. 
While it detains us from our God. 
Ev'n pleasures here increase the wrong : 
And length of dayes lengthen the rod. 

Who wants the place, where God doth dwell, 

Partakes already half of hell. 

Of what strange length must that needs be, 
Which ev'n eternitie excludes ' 



THE CHURCH. 105 



Thus farre Time heard me patiently : 
Then chafing said, This man deludes : 
What do I here before his doore 'I 
He doth not crave lesse time, but more. 



GRATEFULNESSE. 

Thou that hast giv'n so much to me, 
Give one thing more, a grateful hearfc. 
See how thy beggar works on thee 
By art. 

He makes thy gifts occasion more, 
And sayes. If he in this be crost, 
AH thou hast giv'n him heretofore 
Is lost. 

But thou didst reckon, when at first 
Thy word our hearts and hands did cra^.e, 
What it would come to at the worst 
To save. 

Perpetual! knock ings at thy doore, 
Tears sullying thy transparent rooms, 
Gift upon gift ; much would have more, 
And comes. 

This notwithstanding, thou wentst on. 
And didst allow us all our noise : 
Nay thou hast made a sigh and grone 
Thyjoyes. 

Not that thou hast not still above 
Much better tunes, then grones can make ; 
But that these countrey-aires thy love 
Did take. 

Wherefore I crie. and crie again ; 
And in no quiet canst thou be. 
Till I a thankful! heart obtain 

Of thee : 



106 Herbert's poems. 



Not thankful!, when it pleaseth me : 
As if thy blessings had spare dayes : 
But such a heart, whose pulse may be 
Thy praise. 



PEACE. 

Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell ? I humhly crave, 
Let me once know. 
I sought thee in a secret cave. 

And ask'd, if Peace were there. 
A hollow winde did seem to answer, No : 
Go seek elsewhere. 

I did ; and going did a rainbow note : 
Surely, thought I, 
This is the lace of Peace's coat : 
I will search out the matter. 
But while I lookt the clouds immediately 
Did brealc and scatter. 

Then went I to a garden and did spy 
A gallant flower. 
The crown Imperiall : Sure, said I, 
Peace at the root must dwell. 
But when I digg'd, I saw a worm devoure 
What show'd so well. 

At length I met a rev'rend good old man ; 
Whom when for Peace 
I did demand, he thus began : 
There was a Prince of old 
At Salem dwelt, who liv'd with good increase 
Of flock and fold. 

lie sweetly liv'd ; yet sweetnesse did not save 
His life from foes. 
But after death out of his grave 



THE CHUaCH, 107 



There sjorang twelve stalks of wheat : 
Which many wondring at, got some of those 
To iDlaiit and set. 

It prosper' d strangely, and did soon disperse 
Through all the earth : 
For they that taste it do rehearse, 
That vertiie lies therein ; 
A secret vertue, bringing peace and mirth 
By flight of sinne. 

Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, 
And grows for you ; 
Make bread of it : and that repose 
And peace, which ev'ry where 
"With so much earnestnesse you do pursue 
Is onely there. 



COKFESSIOK 

WHAT a cunning guest 
Is this same Grief ! Within my heart I made 

Closets ; and in them many a chest ; 

And like a master in my trade. 
In those chests, boxes ; in each box, a till : 
Yet Grief knows all, and enters wiien he will. 

No scrue, no piercer can 
Into a piece of timber work and W'inde, 
As God's afflictions into man, 
When he a torture hath design' d. 
They are too subtill for the subt'Uest hearts ; 
And faU, like rheumes, upon the tendrest parts. 

We are the earth ; and they, 
Like moles within us, heave and cast about : 
And till they foot and clutch their prey, 
They never cool, much lesse give out. 



108 Herbert's poems. 



No smith can make such locks, but they have keyes; 
Closets are halls to them; and hearts, high- way es. 

Onely an open breast 
Doth shut them out, so that they cannot enter; 
Or, if they enter, cannot rest, 
But quickly seek some new adventure. 
Smooth open hearts no fastning have ; but fiction 
Doth give a hold and handle to afiiiction. 

Wherefore my faults and sinnes, 
Lord, I acknowledge ; take thy plagues away : 
For since confession pardon winnes, 
I challenge here the brightest day, 
The clearest diamond : let them do their best, 
They shall be thick and cloudie to my breast. 



GIDDINESSE. 

Oh, what a thing is man ! how farre from power, 
From setled peace and rest ! 

He is some twentie sev'rall men at least 
Each sev'rall houre. 

One while he counts of heav'n, as of his treasure : 
But then a thought creeps in, 

And calls him coward, who for fear of sinne 
Will lose a pleasure. 

Now he will fight it out, and to the warrej; ; 

Now eat his bread in peace. 
And snudge in quiet : now he scorns increase ; 

Now all day spares. 

He builds a house, which quickly down must go, 

As if a whirlwinde blew 
And crusht the building : and it's partly true. 

His niinde is so. 



THE CHURCH. 



lOfl 



wliat a sight were Man, if his attires 

Did alter with his minde ; 
And Hke a Dolphin's skinne, his clothes combin'd 

With his desires ! 
Surely if each one saw another's heart. 

There would be no commerce, 
No sale or bargain pass : all would disperse, 

And live apart. 

Lord, mend or rather make us : one creation 

Will not suffice our turn : 
Except thou make us dayly, we shall spurn 

Our own salvation. 



THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 

Joy, I did lock thee up : but some bad man 
Hath let thee out again : 

And now, methinks, I am where I began 

Sev'n years ago : one vogue and vein. 
One aire of thoughts usurps my brain, 

I did toward Canaan draw; but now I am 

Brought back to the Red Sea, the sea of shame. 

For as the Jews of old by God's command 
Travel!' d, and saw no town ; 

So now each Christian hath his j ourneys spann'd : 
Their storie pennes and sets us down. 
A single deed is small renown. 

God's works are wide, and let in future times ; 

His ancient justice overflows our crimes. 

Then have we too our guardian fires and clouds ; 

Our Scripture-dew drops fast : 
We have our sands and serpents, tents and shrowds, 

Alas ! our murmurings come not last. 

But Where's the cluster? where' s the taste 
Of mine inheritance ? Lord, if I must borrow, 
Let me as well take up their joy, as sorrow. 



110 Herbert's poems. 



But can he want the grape, who hath the wine i 

I have theu' fruit and more. 
Blessed be Gud, who prosper'd Noah's vine, 

And made it bring forth grapes good store. 

But much more him I must adore. 
Who of the law's so^vre juice sweet wine did make, 
Ev'n God himself, being pressed for my sake. 



LOYE UNKNOWN. 

Deare friend, sit down, the tale is long and sad : 
And in my faintings I presume your love 
Will more compile, then help. A Lord I had, 
And have, of whom some groimds, which may improve, 
I hold for two lives, and both lives in me. 
To him I brought a dish of fruit one day, 
And in the middle plac'd my heart. But he 

(I sigh to say) 
Lookt on a servant, who did know his eye 
Better than you know me, or (which is one) 
Then I my self. The servant instantly 
Quitting the fruit, seiz'd on my heart alone, 
And threw it in a font, wherein did fall 
A stream of bloud, which issu'd from the side 
Of a great rock : I well remember all. 
And have good cause : there it was dipt and died, 
And washt, and wrung : the very wringing yet 
Enforceth tears. Your heart luasfoul, I fear. 
Indeed 'tis true. I did and do commit 
Many a fault more than my lease will bear ; 
Yet still askt pardon, and was not denied. 
But you shall heare. After my heart was well. 
And clean and fair, as I one even-tide 

(I sigh to tell) 
Walkt by myself abroad, I saw a large 
And spacious furnace flaming, and thereon 
A boyling caldron, round about whose verge 



THE CHURCH. Ill 



Was in great letters set AFFLICTION. 

The greatnesse shew'd the owner. So I went 
To fetch a sacrifice out of my fold. 
Thinking with that, which I did thus present, 
To warm his love, which I did fear grew cold. 
But as my heart did tender it, the man 
Who was to take it from me, slipt his hand, 
And threw my heart into the scalding pan ; 
My heart, that brought it (do you understand ?) 
The offerer' s heart. Your heart was hard, I fear. 
Indeed 'tis true. I found a callous matter 
Began to spread and to expatiate there : 
But with a richer drug then scalding water 
I bath'd it often, ev'n with holy blond. 
Which at a board, while many drank bare wine, 
A friend did steal into my cup for good, 
Ev'n taken inwardly, and most divine 
To supple hardnesses. But at the length 
Out of the caldron getting, soon I fled 
Unto my house, where to repair the strength 
Which I had lost, I hasted to my bed : 
But when I thought to sleep out all these faults, 

(I sigh to speak) 
I found that some had stuff 'd the bed with thoughts, 
I would say thorns. Deare^ could my heart not break, 
When with my pleasures ev'n my rest was gone I 
Full well I understood, who had been there : 
For I had giv'n the key to none, but one : 
It must be he. Your heart was dull, I fear. 
Indeed a slack and sleepie state of minde 
Did oft possesse me, so that when I pray'd. 
Though my lips went, my heart did stay behinde. 
But all my scores were by another paid, 
Who took the debt upon him. Tridy, Friend, 
For ought I heave, your Master shows to you 
More favour then you wot of. Mark the end. 
The Font did onely, ivhat was old, renew : 
The Caldron suppled, what icas grown too hard : 



112 HERBERT S POEMS. 



The Thorns did quicken, what was grown too dull: 
All did hut strive to mend, what you had marred. 
Wherefore he cheer' d, and praise him. to the full 
Each day, each houre, each moment of the week, 
Who fain would have you he, neio, tender, quick 



MAN'S MEDLEY. 

Heark, how the birds do sing, 
And woods do ring. 
All creatures have their joy, and j\Ian hath his 
Yet if we rightly measure, 

Man's joy and pleasure 
Rather hereafter, then in present, is 

To this life things of sense 

Make their pretence . 
In th' other Angels have a right by birth : 
Man ties them both alone, 

And makes them one, 
With th' one hand touching heav'n, with th' other earth. 

In soul he mounts and tiies, 
In flesh he dies. 
He wears a stuffe whose thread is course and round, 
But trimm'd with cmious lace. 
And should take place 
After the trimming, not the stuflFe and ground. 

Not, that he may not here 
Taste of the cheer : 
But as birds drink, and straight lift up their head ; 
So must he sip and think 
Of better drink 
He may attain to, after he is dead. 

But as his joyes are double, 
So is his trouble. 



THE CHURCH. 113 



He hath two winters, other things but one : 
Both frosts and thoughts do nip : 
And bite his lip ; 
And he of all things fears two deaths alone. 
Yet ev'n the greatest griefs 
May be reliefs, 
Could he but take them right, and in their wayes. 
Happie is he, whose heart 

Hath found the art 
To turn his double pains to double praise. 



THE STORM. 

If as the windes and waters here below 

Do flie and flow, 
My sighs and tears as busy were above ; 

Sure they would move 
And much affect thee, as tempestuous times 
Amaze poore mortals, and object their crimes. 

Starres have their storms, ev'n in a high degree, 

As well as we. 
A throbbing conscience spurred by remorse 

Hath a strange force : 
It quits the earth, and mounting more and more, 
Dares to assault thee, and besiege thy doore. 

There it stands knocking, to thy musick's wrong. 
And drowns the song. 

Glorie and honour are set by till it 
An answer get. 

Poets have wrong'd poore storms : such dayes are best 

They purge the aire without, within the breast. 



PARADISE. 
I BLESSE thee, Lord, because I grott 
Among thy trees, which in a row 
To thee both fruit and order ow. 

u 



114 HERBERT S POEIMS. 

What open force, or hidden charm 
Can blast my fruit, or bring me harm, 
While the inclosure is thine arm? 

Inclose me still for fear I start. 
Be to me rather shaq) and tart, 
Than let me want thy hand and art. 

When thon dost greater judgements spare. 
And with thy knife but prune and pare, 
Ev'n fruitfull trees more fruitfull are. 

Such sharpnes shows the sweetest frend : 
Such cuttings rather heal than rexd: 
And such begmnings touch their ejjd. 



THE METHOD. 

PooRE heart, lament, 
For since thy God refuseth still, 
There is some rub, some discontent. 

Which cools liis will. 

Thy Father could 
Quickly effect, what thou dost move ; 
For he is Poiver: and sm'c he would; 

For he is Love. 

Go search this thing. 
Tumble thy breast and turn thy book : 
If thou hadst lost a glove or ring, 

Wouldst thou not look ? 

What do I see 
Written above tliere 1 Yesterday 
I did behave me carelessly j 

When I did x>ray. 

And should God's eare 
To sucli indifferents chained be, 
Who do not their o^vn motions hcare? 

Is God lesse free I 



THE CHUROH. 115 



But stay! what's there? 
Late when I ivould have something done, 
1 had a motion to forbear, 

Yet I ivent on. 



Which needs not man, be ty d to those 
Who heare not him, but quickly heare 
His utter foes ? 

Then once more pray : 
Down with tliy knees, up with thy voice ; 
Seek pardon first, and God will say, 

Glad heart rejoyce. 



DIVINITIE. 

As men, for fear the starres should sleep and nod, 
And trip at night, have spheres supplied ; 

As if a starre Avere duller than a clod. 

Which knows his way without a guide : 

Just so the other heav'n they also serve, 

Divinitie's transcendent skie : 
Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve. 

Reason triumphs and Faith lies by. 

Could not that wisdome, which first broacht the wine, 
Have thicken' d it with definitions ? 

And jagg'd his seamlesse coat, had that been fine, 
With curious questions and divisions ? 

But all the doctrine, which he taught iand gave, 

.Was cleare as heav'n, from whence it came. 
At least those beams of truth, which onely save, 
Surpasse in brightnesse any flame. 

Love God, and love your neighbour. Watch and pray. 

Do as you vjoidd be done tcnto. 
dark instructions, ev'n as dark as day ! 

Who can these Gordian knots undo ? 



116 Herbert's ?oems. 



But he doth bid us take his bloud for wine. 

Bid what he please ; yet I am sure, 
To take and taste what he doth there designe, 

Is all that saves, and not obscure. 

Then bum thy Epicycles, foolish man ; 

Break all thy spheres, and save thy head ; 
Faith needs no staffe of flesh, but stoutly can 

To heav'n alone both go, and leade. 



EPHES. IV. 30. 

Grieve not the Holy Spirit, etc. 
And art thou grieved, sweet and sacred Dove, 
When I am sowre, 
And crosse thy love ? 
Grieved for me 1 the God of strength and power 
Griev'd for a worm, which when I tread, 
I passe away and leave it dead ? 

Then weep, mine eyes, the God of love doth grieve : 
Weep, foolish heart, 
And weeping live ; 
For death is drie as dust. Yet if ye part, 
End as the night, whose sable hue 
Your sinnes expresse ; melt into dew. 

When sawcie Mirth shall knock or call at doore, 
Cry out. Get hence, 
Or cry no more. 
Almightie God doth grieve, he puts on sense : 
I sinne not to my grief alone, 
But to my God's too ; he doth grone. 

take thy lute, and tune it to a strain. 
Which may with thee 
All day complain. 
There can no discord but in ceasing be. 

Marbles can weep ; and surely strings . 
More bowels have, than such hard things. 



THE CHURCH. 117 



Lord, I adj udge myself to tears and grief, 
Evil endlesse tears 
Without relief. 
If a cleare spring for me no time forbears, 
But runnes, although I be not drie ; 
I am no Crystall, what shall I ? 

Yet if I wail not still, since still to wail 
Nature denies ; 
And flesh would fail, 
If my deserts were masters of mine eyes : 

Lord, pardon, for thy Sonne makes good 
My want of tears with store of bloud. 



THE FAMILIE. 

What doth this noise of thoughts within my heart, 

As if they had a part ? 
What do these loud complaints and pulling fears. 
As if there were no rule or eares ? 

But, Lord, the house and familie are thine. 
Though some of them repine. 
Turn out these wranglers, which defile thy seat : 
For where thou dwellest all is neat. 

First Peace and Silence all disputes controll. 

Then Order plaies the soul ; 
And giving all things their set forms and hoiires. 
Makes of wilde woods sweet walks and bowres. 

Humble Obedience neare the doore doth stand. 

Expecting a command : 
Then whom in waiting nothing seems more slow, 
Nothing more quick when she doth go. 

Joyes oft are there, and griefs as oft as joyes ; 

But griefs without a noise : 
Yet speak they louder, then distemper' d fears : 
What is so shrill as silent tears ? 



118 HERBERT S POEMS. 

This thy house, with these it doth abound ; 
And where these are not found, 
Perhaps thou com'st sometimes, and for a day ; 
But not to make a constant sta}^ 



THE SIZE. 

Content thee, greedie heart. 
Modest and moderate joyes to those, that have 
Title to more hereafter when they part, 
Are passing brave. 
Let th' upper springs into the low 
Descend and fall, and thou dost flow. 

What though some have a fraught 
Of cloves and nutmegs, and in cinamon sail ? 
If thou hast "wherewithall to spice a draught, 
When griefs prevail. 
And for the future time art heir 
To th' Isle of spices, Is't not fair ? 

To be in both worlds full 
Is more then God was, who was hungrie here. 
Wouldst thou his laws of fasting disanuU / 
Enact good cheer ? 
Lay out thy joy, yet hope to save it ? 
Wouldst thou both eat thy cake, and have it ? 

Great joyes are all at once ; 
But little do reserve themselves for more : 
Those have their hopes ; these what they have renounce, 
And live on score : 
Those are at Iiome ; these journey still, 
And meet the rest on Sion's hill. 

Thy Saviour sentenc'd joy, 
And in the flesh condenm'd it as unfit. 
At least in lump : for such doth oft destroy ; 
Whereas a bit 



THE CHURCH. 119 



Doth tice us on to hopes of more, 
And for the present health restore. 

A Christian's state and case 
Is not a corpulent, but a thinne and spare, 
Yet active strength : whose long and bonie face 
Content and care 
Do seem to equally divide, 
Like a pretender, not a bride. 

Wherefore sit down, good heart ; 

Grasp not at much, for fear thou losest all. 

If comforts fell according to desert. 

They would great frosts and snows destroy : 
Eor we should count. Since the last joy. 

Then close again the seam. 
Which thou hast open'd ; do not spread thy robe 
In hope of great things. Call to mind thy dream, 
An earthly globe. 
On whose meridian was engraven, 
These seas are tears, and heav' n the haven. 



ARTILLERIE. 

As I one ev'ning sat before my cell, 
Me thought a starre did shoot into my lap. 
I rose, and shook my clothes, as knowing well. 
That from small fires come oft no small mishap . 
When suddenly I heard one say, 
Do as thou usest, disobey, 
Exj^ell good notions from thy breast, 
Which have the face of fire, but end in rest. 

I, who had heard of musick in the spheres, 
But not of speech in starres, began to muse : 
But turning to my God, whose ministers 
The starres and all things are ; If I refuse, 



120 HERBERT S POEMS. 



Dread Lord, said I, so oft my good ; 
Then I refuse not ev'n with bloud 
To wash away my stubborn thought ; 
For I will doj or suffer what I ought. 

But I have also starres and shooters too, 
Born where thy servants both artilleries use, 
My tears and prayers night and day do wooe, 
And work up to thee ; yet thou dost refuse. 
Not but I am (I must say still) 
Much more oblig'd to do thy will, 
Than thou to grant mine : but because 
Thy promise now hath ev'n set thee thy laws. 

Then we are shooters both, and thou dost deigns 
To enter combate with us, and contest 
With thine own clay. But I would parley fain : 
Shunne not my arrows, and behold my breast. 

Yet if thou shunnest, I am thine : 

I must be so, if I am mine. 

There is no articling with thee : 
1 am but finite, yet thine infinitely. 



CHURCH-RENTS AKD SCHISMES. 

Brave rose (alas !) where art thou? In the chair, 
AVhere thou didst lately so triumph and shine, 
A worm doth sit, whose many feet and hair 
Are the more foul, the more thou wert divine. 
This, this hath done it, this did bite the root 
And bottome of the leaves : which when the winde 
Did once perceive, it blew them under foot, 
Where rude unhaUow'd steps do crush and grmde 
Their beauteous glories. Onely shreds of thee. 
And those all bitten, in thy chair I see. 

Why doth my Mother blush ? is she the rose. 
And shows it so? Indeed Christ's precious bloud 



THE CHURCn. 121 



Gave you a colour once ; which when your foes 
Thought to let out, the bleeding did you good, 
And made you look much fresher then before. 
But when debates and fretting jealousies 
Did worm and work within you more and more, 
Your colour faded, and calamities 
Turned your ruddie into pale and bleak : 
Your health and beautie both began to break. 

Then did your sev'rall parts unloose and start ; 
Which when your neighbours saw, like a north-winde 
They rushed in, and cast them in the dirt 
Where Pagans tread. Mother deare and kinde. 
Where shall I get me eyes enough to weep. 
As many eyes as starres ? since it is night. 
And much of Asia and Europe fast asleep, 
And ev'n all Africk ; would at least I might 
With these two poore ones lick up all the dew 
Which falls by night, and poure it out for you ! 



JUSTICE. 

DREAD FULL Justice, what a fright and terrour 
Wast thou of old. 
When sinne and errour 
Did show and shape thy looks to me. 
And through their glasse discolour thee ! 
He that did but look up, was proud and bold. 

The dishes of thy ballance seem'd to gape, 
Like two great pits ; 
The beam and scape 
Did like some tott'ring engine show : 
Thy hand above did burn and glow, 
Danting the stoutest hearts, the proudest wits. 

But now that Christ's pure vail presents the sight, 
I see no fears : 
Thy hand is wliite, 



122 Herbert's poems. 



Thy scales like buckets, which attend 
And interchangeably descend, 
Lifting to heaven from this well of tears. 

For where before thou still didst call on me, 
Now I still touch 
And harp on thee, 
God's promises hath made thee mine : 
Why should I justice now decline? 
Against me there is none, but for me much. 



THE PILGRIMAGE. 
I travell'd on, seeing the hill, where lay 
My expectation. 
A long it was and weary way. 
The gloomy cave of Desperation 
I left on th' one, and on the other side 

The rock of Pride. 
And so I came to Phansies medow strow'd 
With many a flower: 
Fain would I here have made abode. 
But I was quicken' d by my lioure. 
So to Care's cops I came, and there got through 

With much ado. 
That led me to the wilde of Passion ; which 
Some call the wold ; 
A wasted place, but sometimes rich. 
Here I was robb'd of all my gold, 
Save one good Angell, which a friend had tied 

Close to my side. 
At length I got unto the gladsome hill, 

Where lay my hope, 
Where lay ray heart ; and climbing still, 
When I had gain'd the brow and top, 
A lake of brackish Avaters on the gi'ound 
Was all I found. 



THE CHURCH. 123 



With that abash' (1 and struck with many a stm^ 
Of swarming fears, 
I fell, and ciy'd, Alas my King ; 
Can both the way and end be tears ? 
Yet taking heart I rose, and then perceiv'd 

I was deceiv'd : 
My hill was further : so I flung away, 
Yet heard a crie 
Just as I went. None goes that v)ay 
And lives : If that be all, said I, 
After so foul a journey death is fair, 

And but a chair. 



THE HOLDFAST. 

I THREATNED to observe the strict decree 

Of my deare God with all my power and might : 
But I was told by one, it could not be ; 

Yet I might trust m God to be my light. 

Then will I trust, said I, in him alone. 

Nay, ev'n to trust in him, was also his : 
We must confesse, that nothing is our own. 

Then I confesse that he my succour is : 

But to have nought is oiu:s, not to confesse 

That we have nought. I stood amaz'd at this, 
Much troubled, till I heard a friend expresse, 

That all tilings were more ours by being his. 
What Adam had, and forfeited for all, 
Christ keepeth now, who cannot faU or fall. 



coMPLAmma 

Do not beguile my heart, 
Because thou art 
My power and wisdome. Put me not to shame. 
Because I am 
Thy clay that weeps, thy dust that calls. 



n 



124 Herbert's poems. 



Thou art the Lord of glorie; 
The deed and storie 
Are both thy due : but I a silly file, 
That live or die, 
According as the weather falls. 

Art thou all justice, Lord ? 
Shows not thy word 
More attributes ? Am I all tliroat or eye 
To weep or crie ? 
Have I no parts but those of grief? 

Let not thy wratlifidl power 
Afflict my houre, 
My inch of life : or let thy gracious power 
Contract my houre, 
That I may climbe and finde relief. 



THE DISCHARGE 

BusiE enquiring heart, what wouldst thou know / 

Why dost thou prie, 
And turn, and leer, and vsdth a licorous eye 

Look high and low ; 
And in thy lookings stretch and grow ? 
Hast thou not made thy counts, and summ'd up all ? 

Did not thy heart 
Give^up the whole, and with the whole depart I 

Let what will fall : 
That which is past who can recall ? 

Thy life is God's, thy time to come is gone, 

And is his right! 
He is thy night at noon : he is at night 

Thy noon alone. 
The crop is his, for he hath sown. 

And well it was for thee, that this bijfell, 
That God did make 



THE CHURCH. 125 



Thy businesse bis, and in thy life partake : 

For thou canst tell, 

If it be his once, all is well. 

Onely the present is thy part and fee. 

And happy thon, 
If, though thou didst not beat thy future brow, 

Thou couldst well see 
What present things requir'd of thee. 

They ask enough ; why shouldst thou further go ? 

Raise not the mudde 
Of future depths, but drink the cleare and good. 

Pig not for wo 
In times to come ; for it will grow. 

Man and the present fit : if he provid, 

He breaks the square. 
This hours is mine : if for the next I care, 

I gTow too wide, 
And do encroach upon death's side : 

For death each houre environs and surrounds : 

He that would know 
And care for future chances, cannot go 

Unto those grounds. 
But thro' a Church-yard which them bounds. 

Things present shrink and die : but they that spend 

Their thoughts and sense 
On future grief, do not remove it thence, 

But it extend. 
And draw the bottome out an end. 

God chains the dog till night : wilt loose the chain, 

And wake thy sorrow ? 
Wilt thou forestall it, and now grieve to morrow, 
And then again 
Grieve over freslily all thy pam ? 



126 heubert's poems. 



Either giief will not come : or if it must, 

Bo not forecast : 
And while it cometh, it is almost past. 
Away clistrast : 

Mj God hath promis'd ; he is just. 



PRAISE. 
King of glorie. King of peace, 

I will love thee : 
And that love may never cease, 

I will move thee. 
Thou hast granted my request, 

Thou hast heard me : 
Thou didst note my working breast, 

Thou hast spar'd me. 
Wherefore with my utmost art 

I will sing thee, 
And the cream of all my heart 

I will bring thee. 
Though my sinnes against me cried. 

Thou didst cleare me ; 
And alone when they replied. 

Thou didst heare me. 
Sev'n whole dayes, not one in seven, 

I will praise thee. 
In my heart, though not in heaven, 

I can raise thee. 
Thou grew'st soft and moist with tears, 

Thou relentedst. 
And when Justice call'd for fears, 

Thou dissentedst. 
Small it is, in this poore sort 

To enroll thee : 
Ev'n eternitie is too short 

To extoll thee. 



THE CHURCH. 127 



AN" OFFERING. 

Come, bring thy gift. If blessings were as slow 
As men's returns, what would become of fools ? 
What hast thou there ? a heart ? but is it pure ? 
Search well and see, for hearts have many holes. 
Yet one pure heart is nothing to bestow : 
In Christ two natures met to be thy cure. 

that within us hearts had propagation, 
Since many gifts do challenge many hearts ! 
Yet one, if good, may title to a niunber ; 
And single things grow fruitfull by deserts. 
In publick judgments one may be a nation, 
And fence a plague, while others sleep and slumber. 

But all I fear is lest thy heart displease. 
As neither good, nor one : so oft divisions 
Thy lusts have made, and not thy lusts alone ; 
Thy passions also have their set partitions. 
These parcell out thy heart : recover these 
And thou mayst offer many gifts in one. 

There is a balsome, or indeed a bloud. 

Dropping from heav'n, which doth both cleanse and close 

All sorts of wounds ; of such strange force it is. 

Seek out this All-heal, and seek no repose, 

Until thou finde, and use it to thy good : 

Then bring thy gift ; and let thy hymne be this ; 

Since my sadnesse 

Into gladnesse^ 
Lord thou dost convert, 

accept 

What thou hast kept, 
As thy due desert. 

Had I many. 

Had I any, 



123 Herbert's poems. 



(For this heart is none) 
All were thine 
And none of mine, 

Surely thine alone. 

Yet thy favour 
May give savour 

To this poore oblation ; 
And it raise 
To be thy praise, 

And be my salvation. 



LONGING. 

With sick and famisht eyes, 
With doubling knees and weary bones, 
To thee my cries, 
To thee my grones, 
To thee my sighs, my tears ascend : 
No end? 

My throat, my soul is hoarse ; 
My heart is wither' d like a ground 
Which thou dost curse. 
My thoughts turn round, 
And make me giddie ; Lord, I fall. 
Yet call. 

From thee all pitie flows. 
Mothers are kinde, because thou art, 
And dost dispose 
To them a part : 
Their infants, them; and they suck thee 
More free. 

Bowels of pitie, heare ! 
Lord of my soul, love of my minde. 
Bow down thine eare ! 



THE CHURCH. 129 



Let not the winde 
Scatter my words, and in the same 
Thy name ! 

Look on my sorrows round ! 
Mark well my furnace! what flames, 
What heats abound ! 
What griefs, what shames ! 
Consider, Lord ; Lord, bow thine eare, 
And heare ! 

Lord Jesu, thon didst bow 
Thy dying head upon the tree : 
be not now 
More dead to me ! 
Lord, heare ! Shall he that made the eare 
Not heare? 

Behold, thy dust doth stirre ; 
It moves, it creeps, it aims at thee : 
Wilt thou deferre 
To succour me. 
Thy pile of dust, wherein each cnmime 
Sayes, Come 'I 

To thee help appertains. 
Hast thou left all things to their course, 
And laid the reins 
Upon the horse ? 
Is all lockt ? hath a sinner s plea 
No key? 

Indeed the world's thy book, 
Where all things have their leafe assign'd ; 
Yet a meek look 
Hath interlin'd. 
Thy board is full, yet humble guests 
Finde nests. 

Thou tarriest, while I die. 
And fall to nothing : thou dost reigne. 



130 Herbert's poems. 



And rule on high, 
While I remain 
In bitter grief: yet am I stil'd 

Tliy childe. 

Lord, didst thou leave thy throne. 
Not to relieve 1 how can it be, 

That thou art grown 
Thus hard to me ? 
Were sirme alive, good cause there were 
To bear. 

But now both sinne is dead. 

And all thy iDromises live and bide. 

That wants his head ; 

These speak and chide, 

And in thy bosome poure my tears. 

As theirs. 

Lord Jestj, heare my heart. 
Which hath been broken now so long, 
That ev'ry part 
Hath got a tongue ! 
Thy beggars grow; rid them away 
To-day. 

My love, my sweetnesse, heare ! 
By these thy feet, at which my heart 
Lies all the yeare. 
Pluck out thy dart. 
And heal my troubled breast which cryes, 
Which dyes. 



THE BAG. 

Away despair; my gracious Lord doth heare, 
Though windes and waves assault my keel. 
He doth pi-eserve it : he doth steer, 
Ev'n when the boat seems most to reel. 



THE CHURCH. 131 



Storms are the triumph of his art ; 
Well may he close his eyes, hut not his neait. 

Hast thou not heard, that my Lord Jesus died ? 
Then let me tell thee a strange storie. 
The God of power, as he did ride 
In his majestick robes of glorie, 
Resolv'd to light ; and so one day 

He did descend, undressing all the way. 

The starres his tire of light and rings obtain' d, 
The cloud his bow, the fire his spear, 
The sky his azure mantle gain'd. 
And when they ask'd, what he would wear; 
He smil'd, and said as he did go, 

He had new clothes a making here below. 

When he was come, as travellers are wont, 

He did repair unto an inne. 

Both then, and after, many a brunt 

He did endiu:e to cancell sinne ; 

And having giVn the rest before, 
Here he gave up his life to pay our score. 

But as he was returning, there came one 
That ran upon him with a spear. 
He, who came hither all alone. 
Bringing nor man, nor arms, nor fear, 
Receiv'd the blow upon his side, 

At^(^ straight he turn'd, and to his brethren cr^d, 

If ye have any thing to send or write, 
(I have no bag, but here is room) 
Unto my Father's hands and sight 
(Beleeve me) it shall safely come. 
That I shall minde, what you impart : 

Look, you may put it very neare my heart. 

Or if hereafter any of my friends 

Will use me in this kinde, the doore 



132 Herbert's poems. 



Shall still be open ; what he sends 

I will present, and somewhat more, 

Not to his hurt. Sighs will convey 

Anything to me. Heark despair, away. 



THE JEWS. 

PooRE nation, whose sweet sap and jiiuie 
Our cyens have purloin' d, and left you drie : 
Whose streams we got by the Apostles' sluce, 
And use in baptisme, while ye pine and die : 
Who by not keeping once, became a debter ; 

And now by keeping lose the letter : 

Oh that my prayers ! mine, alas ! 
Oh that some Angel might a trumpet sound : 
At which the Church faUing upon her face 
Should crie so loud, untill the trump were drown' d, 
And by that crie of her deare Lord obtain, 

That your sweet sap might come again ! 



THE COLLAR. 

I STRUCK the board, and cry'd, No more ; 
I will abroad. 
What ? shall I ever sigh and pine ? 
My lines and life are free ; free as the rode, 
Loose as the winde, as large as store. 
Shall I be still in suit ? 
Have I no harvest but a thorn 
To let me bloud, and not restore 
What I have lost with cordiall fruit ? 
Sm-e there was wine. 
Before my sighs did drie it : there was com. 

Before my tears did drown it. 
Is the yeare onely lost to me ? 
Have I no bayes to crown it ? 



THE CHURCH. 133 



No flowers, no garlands gay ? all blasted ? 
All wasted ? 
Kot so, my heart : but there is fruit, 
And thou hast hands. 
Recover all thy sigh-blown age 
On double pleasures : leave thy cold dispute 
Of what is fit, and not forsake thy cage. 

Thy rope of sands, 
Which pettie thoughts have made, and made to thee 
Good cable, to enforce and draw. 

And be thy law. 
While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. 
Away ; take heed : 
I will abroad. 
Call in thy death's head there : tie up thy fears. 
He that forbears 
To suit and serve his need. 
Deserves his load. 
But as I rav'd and grew more fierce and wilde, 
At every word, 
Methought I heard one calling, Childe : 
And I reply' d. My Lord. 



THE GLIMPSE. 

Whither away. Delight ? 
Thou cam'st but now; wilt thou so soon depart, 

And give me up to night ? 
For many weeks of lingring pain and smart 
But one half hour of comfort for my heart ? 

Methinks Delight should have 
More skill in musick, and keep better time. * 

Wert thou a winde or wave. 
They quickly go and come with lesser crime : 
Flowers look about, and die not in their prime. 



134 Herbert's poems, 



Thy short abode and stay 
Feeds not, but addes to the desire of meat. 

liime begg'd of old (they say) 
A neighbour spring to cool his inward heat ; 
Which by the spring's accesse grew much more great. 

In hope of thee my heart 
Pickt here and there a crumme, and would not die ; 

But constant to his part, 
When as my fears foretold this, did replie, 
A slender thread a gentle guest will tie. 

Yet if the heart that wept 
Must let thee go, retiu-n when it doth knock. 

Although thy heap be kept 
For future times, the droppings of the stock 
May oft break forth, and never break the lock. 

If I have more to spinne. 
The wheel shaU go, so that thy stay be short. 

Thou knowst how grief and sinne 
Disturb the work. make me not their sport, 
Who by thy coming may be made a court 1 



ASSURANCE 

spiTEFULL bitter thought ! 
Bitterly spitefull thought ! Couldst thou invent 
So high a torture ? Is such poyson bought ? 
Doubtlesse, but in the way of punishment, 
When wit contrives to meet with thee, 
No such rank poyson can there be. 

Thou said'st but even now. 
That all was not so fair, as I conceiv'd. 
Betwixt my God and me ; that I allow 
And coin large hopes; but, that I was deceiv'd : 

Either the league was broke, or neare it ; 

And, that I had great cause to fear it. 



THE CHURCH. 135 



And what to this ? what more 
Could poyson, if it had a tongue, expresse ? 
What is thy aim? wouldst thou unlock the doore 
To cold despairs, and gnawing pensivenesse ? 

Wouldst thou raise devils ! I see, I know, 

I writ thy purpose long ago. 

But I will to my Father, 
Who heard thee say it. most gTacious Lord, 
If all the hope and comfort that I gather. 
Were from myself, I had not half a word, 

Not half a letter to oppose 

What is objected by my foes. 

But thou art my desert : 
And in this league, which now my foes invade, 
Thou art not onely to perform thy part, 
But also mine ; as when the league was made. 
Thou didst at once thyself indite. 
And hold my hand, while I did write. 

Wherefore if thou canst fail. 
Then can thy truth and I : but wliile rocks stand, 
And rivers stirre, thou canst not shrink or quail : 
Yea, when both rocks and all tilings shall disband. 
Then shalt thou be my rock and tower. 
And make their ruine praise thy power. 

Now foolish thought go on. 

Spin out thy thread, and make thereof a coat 

To hide thy shame : for thou hast cast a bone. 

Which bounds on thee, and will not down thy throat. 

What for it self love once began, 

Kow love and truth will end in man. 



THE CALL. 

Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life : 
Such a Way, as gives us breath : 



136 HERBERT S POEMS. 

Such a Truth, as ends all strife : 

Such a Life, as killeth death. 

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength ; 

Such a Light as shows a feast : 

Such a Feast, as mends in length : 

Such a Strength, as makes his guest. 

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart : 
Such a Joy, as none can move : 
Such a Love, as none can part : 
Such a Heart, as joyes in love. 



CLASPING OF HANDS. 

Lord, thou art mine, and I am thine, 
If mine I am : and thine much more. 
Than I or ought, or can be mine. 
Yet to he thine, doth me restore ; 
So that again I now am mine. 
And with advantage mine the more. 
Since this being mine, brings with it thine, 
And thou with me dost thee restore. 
If I without thee would be mine, 
I neither should be mine nor thine. 

Lord, I am thine, and thou art mine : 
So mine thou art, that something more 
I may presume thee mine, then thine. 
For thou didst suffer to restore 
Not thee, but me, and to be mine : 
And with advantage mine the more, 
Since thou in death wast none of thine, 
Yet then as mine didst me restore. 

be miide still ! still make me thine ; 

Or rather make no Thine and Mine ! 



THE CHT7ECH. 137 | 



PRAISE. 

Lord, I will mean and speak thy praise. 
Thy praise alone. 
My busie heart shall spin it all my dayes : 

And when it stops for want of store, 

Then will I wring it with a sigh or grone, 

That thou mayst yet have more. 

"When thou dost favour any action. 
It runnes, it flies : 
All things concmre to give it a perfection. 

That which had but two legs before, 
When thou dost blesse, hath twelve : one wheel doth rise 
To twentie then, or more. 

But when thou dost on businesse blow, 
It hangs, it clogs : 
Not all the teams of Albion in a row 
Can hale or draw it out of doore. 
Legs are but stumps, and Pharaoh's wheels but logs. 
And struggling hinders more. 

Thousands of things do thee employ 
In ruling all 
This spacious globe : Angels must have their joy. 

Devils their rod, the sea his shofe. 
The windes their stint : and yet when I did call. 
Thou heardst my call, and more. 

I have not lost one single tear : 

But when mine eyes 
Did weep to heav'n, they found a bottle tliere 

(As we have boxes for the poore) 
Readie to take them in ; yet of a size 

That would contain much more. 

But after thou hadst slipt a drop 

From thy right eye 
(Which there did hang like streamers neare the top 



138 Herbert's poems. 



Of some fair cliurch to show the sore 

And bloudie battell whicli thou once didst trie) 

The glasse was full and more. 

Wherefore I sing. Yet since my heart, 

Though press' d, runnes thin : 
that I might some other hearts convert, 

And so take up at use good store : 
That to thy chests there might be coming in 
Both all my praise, and more ! 



JOSEPH'S COAT. 

WoTJNDED I sing, tormented I indite, 
Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest : 
Sorrow hath chang'd its note : such is his will 
Who changeth all things, as him pleaseth best. 

For well he knows, if but one grief and smart 
Among my many had his full career, 
Sure it would carrie with it ev'n my heart. 
And both would runne until they found a biere 

To fetch the bodie ; both being due to grief. 
But he hath spoil' d the race; and giv'n to anguish 
One of Joyes coats, ticing it with relief 
To linger in me, and together languish. 

I live to show his power, who once did bring 
M-j joyes to weep, and now my griefs to sing. 



THE PULLEY. 

When God at first made man, 
Having a glasse of blessings standing by ; 
Let us (said he) pom'e on him all we can : 
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, 

Contract into a span. 

So strength first made a way ; 
Then beautie flow'd, then wisdomc, honour, pleasure : 



THE CHURCH. 139 



When almost all was out, God made a stay, 
Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure, 
Rest in the bottome lay. 

For if I should (said he) 
Bestow this Jewell also on my creature, 
He would adore my gifts in stead of me, 
And rest in Natm^e, not the God of Nature : 

So both should losers be. 

Yet let him keep the rest. 
But keep them with repuiing restlesnesse : 
Let him be rich and wearie, that at least, 
If goodnesse leade him not, yet wearinesse 

May tosse him to my breast. 



THE PBIESTHOOD. 

Blest Order, which in power dost so excell. 
That with th' one hand thou liftest to the sky, 
And with the other throwest down to hell 
In thy just censm'es ; fain would I draw nigh, 
Fain put thee on, exchanging my lay-sword 
For that of th' holy word. 

But thou art fire, sacred and hallow'd fire ; 
And I but earth and clay: should I presume 
To wear thy habit, the severe attune 
My slender compositions might consmne. 
I am both foul and brittle, much unfit 
To deal in holy writ. 

Yet have I often seen, by cunning hand 
And force of fire, what cmious things are made 
Of wretched earth. Where once I scorn' d to stand, 
That earth is fitted by the fire and trade 
Of skilfull artists, for the boards of those 

Who make the bravest shows. 



140 Herbert's poems. 



But since those great ones, be they ne'er so great, 
Come from the earth, from whence those vessels come, 
So that at once both feeder, dish, and meat, 
Have one beginning and one finall summe : 
I do not greatly wonder at the sight, 

If earth in earth delight. 

But th' holy men of God such vessels are, 
As serve him up, who all the world commands. 
When God vouchsafeth to become our fare. 
Their hands convey him, who conveys their hands: 
what pure things, most pure must those things be, 
Who bring my God to me ! 

Wherefore I dare not, I, put forth my hand 
To hold the Ark, although it seem to shake 
Through th' old sinnes and new doctrines of our land. 
Onely, since God doth often vessels make 
Of lowly matter for high uses meet, 

I throw me at his feet. 

There will I lie, untill my Maker seek 
For some mean stuffe whereon to show his skill : 
Then is my time. The distance of the meek 
Doth flatter power. Lest good come short of ill 
In praising might, the poore do by submission 
What pride by opposition. 



THE SEARCH. 

Whither, 0, whither art thou fled. 
My Lord, my Love ? 

My searches are my daily bread ; 
Yet never prove. 

My knees pierce th' earth, mine eies the SKie: 
And yet the sphere 

And centre both to me denie 

That thou art there. 



THE CHURCH, 1 41 



Yet can I mark how herbs below 

Grow green and gay ; 

As if to meet thee they did know, 
While I decay. 

Yet can I mark how starres above 
Simper and shine, 

As having keyes unto thy love, 

While poore I pine. 

I sent a sigh to seek thee out. 

Deep drawn in pain, 

Wing'd like an arrow : but my scout 
Returns in vain. 

I tun'd another (having store) 
Into a grone, 

Because the search was dumbe before : 
But all was one. 

Lord, dost thou some new fabrick mold 
Which favour winnes, 

And keeps thee present, leaving th' old 
Unto their sinnes ? 

Where is my God ? what hidden place 
Conceals thee still ? 

What covert dare eclipse thy face ? 
Is it thy win? 

let not that of any thing : 

Let rather brasse. 

Or steel, or mountains be thy ring. 
And I will passe. 

Thy will such an intrenching is, 

As passeth thought : 

To it all strength, all subtilties 

Are things of nought. 

Thy will such a strange distance is. 
As that to it 



H2 HERBERT S POEMS. 



East and West touch, the poles do kisse, 
And parallels meet. 

Since then my grief must be as large 
As is thy space, 

Thy distance from me ; see my charge, 
Lord, see my case. 

take these barres, these lengths away : 
Turn, and restore me : 

Be not Almightie, let me say. 

Against, but for me. 

When thou dost turn, and wilt be neare ; 

What edge so keen, 
What point so piercing can appeare 

To come between 1 

For as thy absence doth excell 

All distance known : 

So doth thy nearnesse bear the bell. 
Making two one. 



GRIEF. 



WHO will give me tears ? Come all ye springs. 
Dwell in my head and eyes: come, clouds, and rain : 
My grief hath need of all the watry things. 
That nature bath produc'd. Let ev'ry vein 
Suck up a river to supply mine eyes. 
My weary weeping eyes too drie for me, 
Unlesse they get new conduits, new supplies, 
To bear them out, and with my state agree. 
What are two shallow foords, two little spouts 
Of a lesse world ? the greater is but small, 
A narrow cupboard for my griefs and doubts, 
Which want provision in the midst of all. 
Verses, ye are too fine a thing, too mse 
For my rough sorrows : cease, be dumb and mute, 



THE CHURCH. 143 



Give up your feet and running to mine eyes, 
And keep your measures for some lover's lute, 
Whose grief allows him musick and a ryme ; 
For mine excludes both measure, tune, and time. 
Alas, my God ! 



THE CROSSE. 

What is this strange and uncouth thing 
To make me sigh, and seek, and faint, and die, 
Untill I had some place, where I might sing. 

And serve thee ; and not onely I, 
But all my wealth, and familie might combine 
To set thy honour up, as our designe. 

And then when after much delay. 
Much wrastling, many a combate, this deare end, 
So much desir'd, is giv'n, to take away 

My power to serve thee : to unbend. 
All my abilities, my designes confound, 
And lay my threatnings bleeding on the ground. 

One ague dwelleth in my bones, 
Another in my soul (the memorie 
What I would do for thee, if once my grones 

Could be allow' d for harmonie) : 
I am in all a weak disabled thing. 
Save in the sight thereof, where strength doth sting. 

Besides, things sort not to my will, 
Ev'n when my will doth studie thy renown : 
Thou turnest th' edge of all things on me still, 

Taking me up to throw me down : 
So that, ev'n when my hopes seem to be sped, 
I am to grief alive, to them as dead. 

To have my aim, and yet to be 
Farther from it than when I bent my bow ; 
To make my hopes my torture, and the fee 

Of all my woes another wo. 



144 HEKBERT S POEMS. 

Is in the midst of delicates to need, 
And ev'n in Paradise to be a weed. 

Ah my deare Father, ease my smart ! 
These contrarieties crush me: these crosse actions 
Doe winde a rope about, and cut my heart : 

And yet since these thy contradictions 
Are properly a crosse felt by thy sonne 
With but foure words, my words. Thy will be done. 



THE FLOWER. 

How fresh, Lord, how sweet and clean 
Are thy returns ! eVn as the flowers in spring ; 

To which, besides theh own demean. 
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. 
Grief melts away 
Like snow in May, 
As if there were no such cold thing. 

Who would have thought my shrivel' d heart 
Could have recovefd greennesse ? It was gone 

Quite under ground ; as flowers depart 
To see their mother-root, when they have blown ; 
Where they together 
All the hard weather. 
Dead to the world, keep house unknown. 

These are thy wonders. Lord of power. 
Killing and quickning, bringing down to hell 
And up to heaven in an hom'e ; 
Making a chiming of a passing-bell. 
We say amisse. 
This or that is : 
Thy word is all, if we could spell. 

that I once past changing were, 
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither I 
Many a spring I shoot up fair, 



THE CHUECH. 145 



Off 'ring at heav'n, growing and groning tliither 
Nor doth my flower 
. Want a spring-showre, 
My sinnes and I joining together. 

But while I grow in a straight line, 
Still upwards bent, as if heav'n were mine own, 

Thy anger comes, and I decline : 
"What frost to that ? what pole is not the zone 
Where all things bum. 
When thou dost turn. 
And the least frown of thine is shown ? 

And now in age I bud again. 
After so many deaths I live and write ; 

I once more smell the dew and rain. 
And relish versing : my onely light. 
It cannot be 
That I am he. 
On whom thy tempests fell all night. 

These are thy wonders. Lord of love. 
To make us see we are but flowers that glide : 
Which when we once can finde and prove, 
Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide. 
Who would be more. 
Swelling through store. 
Forfeit their Paradise by their pride. 



DOTAGE. 

False glozing pleasures, casks of happinesse, 
Foolish night-fires, women's and children's wishes, 
Chases in arras, guilded emptinesse. 
Shadows well mounted, dreams in a career, 
Embroider' d lyes, nothing between two dishes ; 
These are the pleasures here. 

True earnest sorrows, rooted miseries, 
Anguish in grain, vexations ripe and blown, 



146 HERBERT S POEMS. 



Sure-footed griefs, solid calamities, 
Plain demonstrations, evident and cleare, 
Fetching their proofs ev'n from the very bone ; 
These are the sorrows here. 

But oh the folly of distracted men, 
Who griefs in earnest, joyes in jest pursue ; 
Preferring, like brute beasts, a loathsome den 
Before a court, ev'n that above so cleare, 
Where are no sorrows, but delights more true 
Then miseries are here ! 



THE SOKNE. 

Let forrain nations of their language boast, 
What fine varietie each tongue affords : 
I like our language, as our men and coast ; 
Vfho cannot dresse it well, want wit, not words. 
How neatly do we give one onely name 
To parents' issue and the sunne's bright starre ! 
A Sonne is light and fruit ; a fruitfull flame 
Chasing the father's dimnesse, carried far 
From the first man in th' East, to fresh and new 
Western discov'ries of posteritie. 
So in one word our Lord's humilitie 
We turn upon him in a sense most true : 
For what Christ once in humblenesse began, 
We him in glorie call. The Sonne of Man. 



A TRUE HYMKE. 

My joy, my life, my crown ! 
My heart was meaning all the day, 
Somewhat it fain would say : 
And still it ranneth mutt' ring up and do-vvn 
With only this, Mijjoy, my life, my crown. 



THE CHURCH. 147 



Yet slight not these few words ; 
If truly said, they may take part 

Among the best in art. 
The finenesse which a hymne or psalme affords, 
Is, when the soul unto the line accords. 

He who craves all the minde, 
And all the soul, and strength, and time, 

If the words onely ryme, 
Justly complains, that somewhat is behinde. 
To make his verse, or write a hymne in kinde. 

Whereas if th' heart be moved. 
Although the verse be somewhat scant, 
Gud doth supplie the want. 
As when th' heart sayes (sighing to be approved) 
0, could I love ! and stops ; God writeth, Loved. 



THE AKSWEB. 

My comforts drop and melt away like snow : 
I shake my head, and all the thoughts and ends, 
Which my fierce youth did bandie, fall and flow 
Like leaves about me, or hke summer friends, 
Flyes of estates and sunne-shine. But to all. 
Who think me eager, hot, and undertaking. 
But in my prosecutions slack and small ; 
As a young exhalation, newly waking, 
Scorns his first bed of dirt, and means the sky ; 
But cooling by the way, grows pursie and slow, 
And settling to a cloud, doth live and die 
In that dark state of tears : to aU, that so 

Show me, and set me, I have one reply, . 
Which they that know the rest, know more then I. 



148 Herbert's poems. 



A DIALOGUE-ANTHEM. . 

Christian, Death. 
Chr. Alas, poore Death ! where is thy glorie ? 

Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting ? 
Dea. Alas, poore mortall, void of storie, 

Go spell and reade how I have kilVd thy King. 
Chr. Poore Death ! and who was hurt thereby ? 

Thy curse being laid on him makes thee accurst. 



Dea. 



These arms shall crush thee. Chr. Spare hot, do 

thy worst. 
I shall be one day better then before : 
Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more. 



THE WATER-COURSE. 

Thou who dost dwell and hnger here below. 
Since the condition of this world is frail, 
Where of all plants afflictions soonest gi'ow ; 
If troubles overtake thee, do not wail : 

For who can look for lesse, that loveth j ^ ?' 
' ( Strife. 

But rather turn the pipe, and waters course 

To serve thy sinnes, and fiurnish thee with store 

Of sov'raigne tears, springing from true remorse : 

That so in purenesse thou mayst him adore 

Who gives to man, as he sees fit, j Salvation. 

( Damnation. 



SELF-CONDEMNATION. 

Thotj who condemnest Jewish hate, 
For choosing Barabbas a murderer 

Before the Lord of glorie ; 
Look back upon thine own estate, 



THE CHURCH. 149 



Call home thine eye (that busie wanderer) 
That choice may be thy storie. 

He that doth love, and love amisse 
This world's delights before true Christian joy, 
Hath made a Jewish choice : 
The world an ancient murderer is ; 
Thousands of souls it hath and doth destroy 
With her enchanting voice. 

He that hath made a sorrie wedding 
Between his soul and gold, and hath preferr'd 
False gain before the true. 
Hath done what he condemnes in reading : 
For he hath sold for money his deare Lord, 
And is a Judas- Jew. 

Thus we prevent the last great day, 
And judge our selves. That light which sin and passion 
Did before dimme and choke, 
When once those snuffes are ta'en away. 
Shines bright and cleare, ev'n unto condemnation, 
Without excuse or cloak. 



BITTER-SWEET. 
Ah, my deare angrie Lord, 
Since thou dost love, yet strike ; 
Cast down, yet help afford ; 
Sure I will do the like. 
I will complain, yet praise ; 
I will bewail, approve : 
And all my sowre-sweet dayes 
I wiU lament, and love. 



THE GLANCE. 
When first thy sweet and gracious eye 
Vouchsaf 'd ev'n in the midst of youth and night 



150 Herbert's poems. 



To look upon me, wlio before did lie 

Weltring in sinne ; 
I felt a sugrcd strange delight, 
Passing all cordials made by any art. 
Bedew, embalme, and overrunne my heart, 

And take it in. 

Since that time many a bitter storm 
My soul hath felt, ev'n able to destroy. 
Had the malicious and ill-meaning harm 
His swing and sway : 
But still thy sweet originall joy 
Sprung from thine eye, did work within my soul, 
And surging griefs, when they grew bold, controll. 
And got the day. 

If thy first glance so powerfull be, 
A mirth but open'd, and seal'd up again ; 
What wonders shall we feel, when we shall see 
Thy fuU-ey'd love ! 
When thou shalt look us out of pain, 
And one aspect of thine spend in delight 
More then a thousand sunnes disburse in light, 
In heav'n above. 



THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALME. 

The God of love my shepherd is, 
And he that doth me feed : 

While he is mine, and I am his. 
What can I want or need ? 

He leads me to the tender grasse. 
Where I both feed and rest ; 

Then to the streams that gently passe : 
In both I have the best. 

Or if I stray, he doth convert. 
And bring my minde in frame : 




Uteii "bleggecL ICfrrie -sra^'l luec SaxLonr's feel: 
Wliosc -precepts site lial -ixampiecL an. "beira-e 



THE CHURCH. 151 



And all this not for my desert, 
But for his holy name. 

Yea, in death's shadie black abode 
Well may I walk, not fear : 

For thou art with me, and thy rod 
To guide, thy staffe to bear. 

Nay, thou dost make me sit and dine, 
Ev'n in my enemies' sight ; 

My head with oyl, my cup with wine 
E-unnes over day and night. 

Surely thy sweet and wondrous love 
Shall measure all my dayes ; 

And as it never shall remove. 
So neither shall my praise. 



MARIE MAGDALENE. 

When blessed Marie wip'd her Saviour's feet, 
(Whose precepts she had trampled on before) 
And wore them for a Jewell on her head. 

Shewing his steps should be the street, 

Wherein she thenceforth evermore 
With pensive humblenesse would live and tread : 

She being stain' d herself, why did she strive 

To make him clean, who could not be defil'd ? 

Why kept she not her tears for her own faults. 
And not his feet ? Though we could dive 
In tears like seas, our sinnes are pil'd 

Deeper then they, in words, and works, and thoughts. 

Deare soul, she knew who did vouchsafe and deigne 
To bear her filth ; and that her sinnes did dash 
Ev'n God himself : wherefore she was not loth, 

As she had brought wherewith to stain, 

So to bring in wherewith to wash : 
And yet in washing one, she washed both. 



152 HERBERT S POEMS. 



AARON. 
HoLiNEssE on the head, 
Light and perfections on the breast, 
Harmonious bells below, raising the dead 
To lead them unto Hfe and rest : 
Thus are true Aarons drest. 
Profanenesse in my head. 
Defects and darknesse in my breast, 
A noise of passions ringing me for dead 
Unto a place where is no rest : 
Poore priest thus am I drest. 
Onely another head 
I have, another heart and breast. 
Another musick, making live not dead, 
Without whom I could have no rest : 
In him I am well drest. 
Christ is my onely head. 
My alone onely heart and breast. 
My onely musick, striking me ev'n dead ; 
That to the old man I may rest. 
And be in him new drest. 
So holy in my head. 
Perfect and light in my deare breast. 
My doctrine tuu'd by Christ, (who is not dead, 
But lives in me while I do rest). 

Come, people ; Aaron's drest. 



THE ODOUR. 
2 Cor. n. 
How sweetly doth My Master sound! My Master I 
As amber-greese leaves a rich scent 
Unto the taster : 
So do these words a sweet content, 
In oriental! fragrancie, My Master. 



THE CHURCH. 153 



With these all day I do perfume my minde, 
My minde ev'n thrust into them both ; 

That I might finde 
What cordials make this curious broth, 

This broth of smells, that feeds and fats my minde. 

My Master, shall I speak ? that to thee 

My servant were a little so. 
As tiesh may be ; 

That these two words might creep and grow 
To some degree of spicinesse to thee ! 

Then should the Pomander, which was before 
A speaking sweet, mend by reflection. 

And tell me more : 
For pardon of my imperfection 

Would warm and work it sweeter than before. 

For when My Master, which alone is sweet, 
And ev'n in my unworthinesse pleasmg, 

Shall call and meet. 
My servant, as thee not displeasing, 

That call is but the breathing of the sweet. 

This breathing would with gains by sweetning me 
(As sweet things traffick when they meet) 

Return to thee. 
And so this new commerce and sweet 

Should all my life employ, and busie me. 



THE FOIL. 

If we could see below 
The sphere of vertue, and each shining grace, 

As plainly as that above doth show ; 
This were the better skie, the brighter place. 

God hath made starres the foil 
To set off vertues ; griefs to set off sinning . 

Yet in this wretched world we toil, 
As if grief were not foul, nor vertue winning. 



154 HERBERT S POEMS. 



THE FORERUNNERS. 

The harbingers are come. See, see their mark ; 
White is their colour, and behold my head. 
But must they have my brain ? must they dispark 
Those sparkling notions, which therein was bred ? 

Must dulnesse turn me to a clod ? 
Yet have they left me, Thou art still my God. 

Good men ye be, to leave me my best room, 
Ev'n all my heart, and what is lodged there : 
I passe not, I, what of the rest become. 
So, Thou art still my God, be out of fear. 

He will be pleased with that dittie ; 
And if I please him, I write fine and wittie. 

Farewell sweet phrases, lovely metaphors ; 
But will ye leave me thus 1 when ye before 
Of stews and brothels onely knew the doores, 
Then did I wash you with my tears, and more. 
Brought you to chmxh well drest and clad : 
My God must have my best, ev'n all I had. 

Lovely enchanting language, sugar-cane, 
Hony of roses, whither wilt thou flie ? 
Hath some fond lover tic'd thee to thy bane? 
And wilt thou leave the Church, and love a stie ! 

Fie, thou wilt soil thy broider'd coat. 
And hurt thyself, and him that sings the note. 

Let foolish lovers, if they will love dung. 
With canvas, not with arras clothe their shame: 
Let Follie speak in her own native tongue. 
True beautie dwells on high : oui's is a flame 
But borrow' d thence to light us thither. 
Beautie and beauteous words should go together. 

Yet if you go, I passe not ; take your way : 
For, Thou art still my God, is all that ye 



THE CHURCH. 155 



Perhaps with more embellishment can say. 
Go, birds of spring : let Winter have his fee ; 

Let a bleak palenesse chalk the doore, 
So all within be livelier then before. 



THE ROSE. 

Presse me not to take more pleasure 
In this world of sugred lies, 

And to use a larger measure 

Than my strict, yet welcome size. 

First, there is no pleasure here : 
Colour' d griefs indeed there are. 

Blushing woes, that look as cleare. 
As if they could beautie spare. 

Or if such deceits there be. 

Such delights I meant to say ; 

There are no such things to me. 
Who have pass'd my right away. 

But I will not much oppose 
Unto what you now advise : 

Onely take this gentle rose. 
And therein my answer lies. 

What is fairer then a rose ? 

What is sweeter ? yet it purgetk 
Purgings enmitie disclose, 

Enmitie forbearance urgeth. 

If then all that worldlings prize 

Be contracted to a rose ; 
Sweetly there indeed it lies, 

But it biteth in the close. 

So this flower doth judge and sentence 
Worldly joyes to be a scourge : 

For they all produce repentance, 
And repentance is a purge. 



156 Herbert's poems. 



But I health, not physick choose : 
Onely though I you oppose, 

Say that faMy I refuse, 
For my answer is a rose. 



DISCIPLINE. 

Throw away thy rod. 
Throw away thy wrath : 

my God, 
Take the gentle path. 

For my heart's desire ' 
Unto thine is bent : 

1 aspire 
To a full consent. 

Not a word or look 
I affect to own. 

But by book, 
And thy book alone. 

Though I fail, I weep : 
Though I halt in pace, 

Yet I creep 
To the throne of grace. 

Then let wrath remove ; 
Love will do the deed : 

For with love 
Stonie hearts will bleed. 

Love is swift of foot ; 
Love's a man of warre, 

And can shoot, 
And can hit from farre. 

Who can scape his bow ? 
That which wrought on thee. 

Brought thee low, 
Needs must work on me. 



THE CHURCH. 157 



Throw away thy rod ; 
Though man frailties hath, 

Thou art God : 
Throw away thy wrath. 



THE INVITATION. 

Come ye hither all, whose taste 
Is your waste ; 

Save your cost, and mend your fare. 

God is here prepar'd and drest, 
An€ the feast, 

God, in whom all dainties are. 

Come ye hither all, whom wine 

Doth define. 
Naming you not to your good : 
Weep what ye have drunk amisse, 

And drink this, 
Which before ye drink is bloud. 

Come ye hither all, whom pain 
Doth arraigne. 

Bringing all your sinnes to sight : 

Taste and fear not : God is here 
In this cheer. 

And on sinne doth cast the fright. 

Come ye hither all, whom joy 

Doth destroy, 
While ye graze without your bounds : 
Here is joy that drowneth quite 

Your delight. 
As a floud the lower grounds. 

Come ye hither all, whose love 

Is your dove. 
And exalts you to the skie : 



158 Herbert's poems. 

Here is love, which, having breatli 

Ev'n in death, 
After death can never die. 

Lord I have invited all, 
And I shall 

Still invite, still call to thee : 

For it seems but just and right 
In my sight. 

Where is all, there all should be. 



THE BANQUET. 

Welcome sweet and sacred cheer, 
Welcome deare ; 

With me, in me, live and dwell : 

For thy neatnesse passeth sight, 
Thy delight 

Passeth tongue to taste or teU. 

what sweetnesse from the bowl 

Fills my soul, 
Such as is, and makes divine ! 
In some starre (fled from the sphere) 

Melted there, 
As we sugar melt in wine 1 

Or hath sweetnesse in the bread 

Made a head 
To subdue the smell of sinne. 
Flowers, andgummes, and powders giving 

All their living. 
Lest the enemie should winne ? 

Doubtlesse, neither starre nor flower 
Hath the power 

Such a sweetnesse to impart : 

Onely God, who gives perfumes. 
Flesh assumes, 

And with it perfumes my heart. 



THE CHURCH. 159 



But as Pomanders and wood 
Still are good, 

Yet being bruis'd are better sented; 

God, to show how farre his love 
Could improve, 

Here, as broken, is presented. 

"When I had forgot my birth, 
And on earth 

In delights of earth was drown' d ; 

God took bloud, and needs would be 
Spilt with me, 

And so found me on the ground. 

Having raised me to look up, 

In a cup 
Sweetly he doth meet my taste. 
But I stiU being low and short, 

Farre from court. 
Wine becomes a wing at last. 

For with it alone I flie 

To the skie : 
Where I wipe mine eyes, and see 
What I seek, for what I sue ; 

Him I view 
Who hath done so much for me. 

Let the wonder of this pitie 
Be my dittie, 

And take up my lines and life : 

Hearken under pain of death. 

Hands and breath, 

Strive in this, and love the strife. 



THE POSIE. 

Let wits contest. 
And with t heir words and posies windows fill : 

Lesse than the least 
Of all th]j mercies, is my posie still. 



160 HERBERT S POEMS. 



This on my ring, 
This by my picture, in my book I Tvrite 

Whether I sing. 
Or say, or dictate, this is my delight. 

Invention rest ; 
Comparisons go play ; wit use thy will : 

Lesse than the least 
Of all God^s mercies, is my posie still. 



A PARODIE. 

Soul's joy, when thou art gone, 

And I alone. 

Which cannot be. 
Because thou dost abide with me, 
And I depend on thee ; 

Yet when thou dost suppresse 

The cheerfulnesse 

Of thy abode. 
And in my powers not stirre abroad, 
But leave me to my load : 

what a damp and shade 

Doth me invade ! 

No stormie night 

Can so afflict or so affright 

As thy eclipsed light. 

Ah Lord ! do not withdraw, 

Lest want of aw 

Make sinne appear ; 
And when thou dost but shine lesse cleare, 
Say, that thou art not here. 

And then what life I have, 

Wliile Sinne doth rave, 
And falsely boast, 



THE CHURCH. 161 



That I may seek, but thou art lost; 
Thou and alone thou know'st. 

what a deadly cold 

Doth me infold ! 
I half beleeve, 
That Sinne says true : but while I grieve, 
Thou com'st and dost relieve. 



THE ELIXER. 

Teach me, my God and King, 
In all things thee to see. 
And what I do in any thing, 
To do it as for thee : 

Not rudely, as a beast. 
To runne into an action ; 
JBut still to make thee prepossest. 
And give it his perfection. 

A man that looks on glasse, 
On it may stay his eye ; 
Or if he pleaseth, through it passe, 
And then the heav'n espie. 

All may of thee partake : 
Nothing can be so mean. 
Which with his tincture (for thy sake) 
Will not grow bright and clean. 

A servant with this clause 
Makes drudgerie divine : 
Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, 
Makes that and th' action fine. 

This is the famous stone 
That turneth all to gold : 
For that which God doth touch and owii 
Cannot for lesse be told. 



162 HERBERT S POEMS. 



A WREATH. 

A WREATHED garland of deserved praise, 

Of praise deserved, unto thee I give, 

I give to thee, who knowest all my wayes, 

My crooked winding wayes, wherein I live, 

Wherein I die, not live ; for life is straight. 

Straight as a line, and ever tends to thee, 

To thee, who art more farre above deceit, 

Than deceit seems above simplicitie. 

Give me simplicitie, that I may live, 

So live and like, that I may know thy wayes. 

Know them and practise them : then shall I give 

For this poore wreath, give thee a crown of praise. 



DEATH. 

Death, thon wast once an uncouth hideous thing, 
Nothing but bones. 
The sad eflfect of sadder grones : 
Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing. 

For we consider' d thee as at some six 
Or ten yeares hence. 
After the losse of life and sense. 
Flesh being turn'd to dust, and bones to sticks. 

We lookt on this side of thee, shooting short ; 
Where we did finde 
The shells of fledge souls left behinde, 
Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort, 

But since our Saviour's death did put some bloud 
Into thy face ; 
Thou art gi-own fair and full of grace. 
Much in request, much sought for, as a good. 



THE CHURCH. 163 



For we do now behold thee gay and glad, 
As at dooms-day ; 
When souls shall wear their new aray, 
And all thy bones with beautie shall be clad. 

Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust 
Half that we have 
Unto an honest faithfull grave ; 
Making our pillows either down, or dust. 



DOOMS-DAY. 

Come away, 
Make no delay. 
Summon all the dust to rise, 
Till it stirre, and rubbe the eyes ; 
While this member jogs the other. 
Each one whispering. Live you^ brother f 

Come away, 
Make this the day. 
Dust, alas, no musick feels, 
But thy trumpet : then it kneels, 
As peculiar notes and strains 
Cure Tarantulaes raging pams. 

Come away, 
make no stay ! 
Let the graves make their confession, 
Lest at length they plead possession : 
Fleshes stubbornnesse may have 
Read that lesson to the grave. 

Come away. 
Thy flock doth stray. 
Some to the windes their bodie lend, 
And in them may drown a friend : 
Some in noisome vapours grow 
To a plague and pubhck wo. 



161 HERBERT S POEMS. 

Come away, 
Help our decay. 
Man is out of order hurl'd, 
Parcel' d out to all the world. 
Lord, thy broken consort raise, 
And the musick shall be praise. 



I 



JUDGEMENT. 

Almightie Judge, how shall poore wretches brook 

Thy dreadfull look, 
Able a heart of iron to appall. 

When thou shalt call 
For ev'ry man's peculiar book ? 

What others mean to do, I know not well ; 

Yet I heare tell. 
That some will turn thee to some leaves therein 
So void of sinne. 
That they in merit shall excell. 

But I resolve, when thou shalt call for miiM, 

That to decline, 
And thrust a Testament into thy hand : 

Let that be scann'd. 
There thou shalt finde my faults are tliine. 



HEAVEN. 

WHO will show me those delights on high ? 

Echo. I. 

Thou Echo, thou art mortall, all men know. 

Echo. No. 

Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves '/ 

Echo. Leaves. 

And are there any leaves, that still abide 'I 

Echo. Bide. 



1 



THE CHURCH. 165 



What leaves are tliey ? impart the matter wholly. 

Echo. Holy. 

Are holy leaves the Echo then of blisse ? 

Echo. Yes. 

•rhen tell me what is that supreme delight l 

Echo. Light. 

Light to the minde : what shall the will enjoy? 

Echo. Joy. 

But are there cares and businesse with the pleasure ? 

Echo. Leisure. 

Light, joy, and leisure ; but shall they persever? 

Echo. Ever. 



LOYE. 

Love bade me welcome : yet my soul drew back, 

Guiltie of dust and sinne. 
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack 

From my first entrance in. 
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning, 

If I lack'd any thing. 

A guest, I answer' d, worthy to be here : 

Love said. You shall be he. 
I the unkinde, ungratefull ? Ah my deare, 

I cannot look on thee. 
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, 

Who made the eyes but 1 1 

Truth Lord, but I have marr'd them : let my shame 

Go where it doth deserve. 
And know you not, sayes Love, who bore the blame / 

My deare, then I will serve. 
You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat ; 

So I did sit and eat. 

Glorie he to God on high, and on earth peace, 
good will towards men. 



166 Herbert's poems. 



11. THE CHURCH MILITANT. 

Almightie Lord, who from thy glorious throne 
Seest and rulest all things ev'n as one : 
The smallest ant or atome knows thy power, 
Known also to each minute of an hour : 
Much more do Common- weals acknowledge thee, 
And wrap their policies in thy decree, 
Complying with thy counsels, doing nought 
Which doth not meet with an eternall thought. 
But above all, thy Church and Spouse doth prove 
Not the decrees of power, but bands of love. 
Early didst thou arise to plant this vine. 
Which might the more indeare it to be thine. 
Spices come from the East ; so did thy Spouse, 
Trimme as the light, sweet as the laden boughs 
Of Noah's shadie vine, chaste as the dove, 
Prepar'd and fitted to receive thy love. 
The course was westward, that the sunne might light 
As well our understanding as our sight. 
Where th' Ark did rest, there Abraham began 
To bring the other Ark from Canaan. 
Moses puisu'd this : but King Solomon 
Finish' d and fixt the old religion. 
When it grew loose, the Jews did hope in vain 
By nailing Christ to fasten it again. 
But to the Gentiles he bore crosse and all. 
Rending with earthquakes the partition-wall. 
Onely whereas the Ark in glorie shone, 
Now with the crosse, as with a staffe, alone. 
Religion, Hke a pi] grime, westward bent. 
Knocking at all doores, ever as she went. 
Yet as the sunne, though forward be his flight, 



THE CHURCH MILITANT. 167 

Listens behinde him, and allows some light, 
Till all depart : so went the Church her way, 
Letting, while one foot stept, the other stay 
Among the Eastern nations for a time. 
Till both removed to the western clime. 
To Egypt first she came, where they did prove 
Wonders of anger once, but now of love. 
The ten Commandments there did flourish more 
Than the ten bitter plagues had done before. 
Holy Macarius and great Anthonie 
Made Pharaoh Moses, changing th' historic. 
Goshen was darknesse, Egypt full of lights, 
yUus for monsters brought forth Israehtes. 
Such power hath mightie Baptisme to produce, 
For things misshapen, things of highest use. 
Eow deare to me, God, thy counsels are ! 

Who may with thee compare f ■ 

Religion thence fled into Greece, where arts j 

Gave her the highest place in all men's hearts. I 

Learning was pos'd, Philosphie was set, 
Sophisters taken in a fisher's net. j 

Plato and Aristotle were at a losse, I 

And wheel' d about again to spell Christ-Grosse. \ 

Prayers chas'd syllogismes into their den, ! 

And Ergo was transform' d into Amen. 
Though Greece took horse as soon as Egypt did. 
And Rome as both ; yet Egypt faster rid, I 

And spent her period and prefixed time I 

Before the other. Greece being past her prime, 
Religion went to Rome, subduing those, 
"Who, that they might subdue, made all their foes. 
The Warrier his deere skarres no more resounds. 
But seems to yeeld Christ hath the greater wounds ; 
Wounds willingly endur'd to work his blisse, 
Who by an ambush lost his Paradise. 
The great heart stoops, and taketh from the dust 
A sad repentance, not the spoils of lust : 
Quitting his spear, lest it should pierce again 



168 hekbekt's poems. 



Him ill his members, who for him was slain. 

The shepherd's hook grew to a scejjter here, 

Giving new names and numbers to the yeare. 

But th' Empire dwelt in Greece, to comfort them, 

Who were cut short in Alexandei's stemme. ♦ 

In both of these Prowesse and Arts did tame * 

And tune men's hearts against the Gospel came : 

Which using, and not fearing skill in th' one. 

Or strength in th' other, did erect her throne, 

Many a rent and struggling th' Empire knew 

(As dying things are wont,) untill it flew 

At length to Germanie, still westward bending. 

And there the Churches festivall attending : 

That as before Empire and Arts made way, 

(For no lesse Harbingers would serve then they) 

So they might still, and point us out the place. 

Where first the Church should raise her down-cast face. 

Strength levels grounds. Art makes a garden there ; 

Then showres Religion, and makes all to bear. 

Spain in the Empire shar'd with Germanie^ 

But England in the higher victorie ; 

Giving the Church a crown to keep her state, 

And not go lesse than she had done of late. 

Constantino s British line meant this of old, 

And did this mysterie wrap up and fold 

Within a sheet of paper, which was rent 

From time's great Chronicle, and hither sent. 

Thus both the Church and Sunne together ran 

Unto the farthest old meridian. 

Bow deare to me, God, thy counsels are ! 

Who may with thee compare ? 
Much about one and the same time and place. 
Both where and when the Church began her race, 
Sinne did set out of Eastern Bahjlon, 
And travel!' d westward also : journeying on 
He chid the Church away, where e're he came, 
Breaking her peace, and tainting her good name. 
At first he got to Egypt, and did sow 



THE CHURCH MILITANT. 169 

Gardens of gods, which ev'ry j^eare did grow, 

Fresh and fine deities. They were at great cost, 

Who for a god clearely a sallet lost. 

Ah, what a thing is man devoid of grace. 

Adoring garhck with an humble face. 

Begging his food of that which he may eat, 

Starving the while he worshippeth his meat ! 

Who makes a root his god, how low is he, 

If God and man be sever' d infinitely ! 

What wretchednesse can give him any room. 

Whose house is foul, while he adores his broom ? 

None will beleeve this now, though money be 

In us the same transplanted foolerie. 

Thus Sinne in Egypt sneaked for a while ; 

His highest was an ox or crocodile. 

And such poore game. Thence he to Greece doth passe, 

And being craftier much then Goodnesse was, 

He left behinde him garrisons of sinnes. 

To make good that which ev'ry day he winnes. 

Here Sinne took heart, and for a garden-bed 

Rich shrines and oracles he purchased : 

He grew a gallant, and would needs foretell 

As well what should befall, as what befell. 

Nay, he became a poet, and would serve 

His pills of sublimate in that conserve. 

The world came both with hands and purses full 

To this gi'eat lotterie, and all would pull. 

But all was glorious cheating, brave deceit. 

Where some poore truths were shuffled for a bait 

To credit him, and to discredit those. 

Who after him should braver truths disclose. 

From Greece he went to Rome : and as before 

He was a god, now he's an Emperour. 

Nero and others lodg'd him bravely there. 

Put him in trust to rule the Romane sphere. 

Glorie was his chief instrument of old : 

Pleasure succeeded straight, when that grew cold : 

Which soon was blown to such a mightie flame, 



170 Herbert's poems. 

That though our Saviour did destroy the game, 
Pisparking oracles, and all their treasui'e, 
Setting affliction to encounter pleasure ; 
Yet did a rogue, with hope of carnall joy, 
Cheat the most subtill nations. AVho so coy, 
So trimme, as Greece and Egypt? yet their hearts 
Are given over, for their curious arts, 
To such Mahometan stupidities 
As the old heathen would deem prodigies. 
How deare to me, God, thy counsels are ! 

Who may with thee compare? 
Onely the West and Rome doth keep them free 
From this contagious infidelitie. 
And this is all the Rock, whereof they boast. 
As Tiome will one day finde unto her cost. 
Sinne not being able to extirpate quite 
The Churches here, bravely resolv'd one night 
To be a Church-man too, and wear a Mitre : 
The old debauched ruffian would turn writer. 
I saw him in his studie, where he sate 
Busie in controversies sprung of late. 
A gOAvn and })en became him wondrous well : 
His grave aspect had more of heav'n then hell : 
Onely there was a handsome picture by. 
To which he lent a corner of his eye. 
As Sinne in Greece a Prophet was before, 
And in old Rome a mightie Emperour ; , 
So now being Priest he plainly did professe 
To make a jest of Christ's three offices : 
The rather since his scatter'd jugglings were 
United now in one both time and sphere. 
From Egypt he took pettie deities. 
From Greece oracular infallibilities, 
And from old Rome the libertie of pleasure. 
By free dispensings of the Churches treasure. 
Then in memoriall of his ancient throne. 
He did surname his palace, Babylon. 
Yet that he might the better gain all nations, 



THE CHURCH MILITANT. 171 

And make that name good by their transmigrations ; 
From all these places, but at divers times, 
He took fine vizards to conceal his crimes : 
From Egijpt anchorisme and retirednesse, ^ 
Learning from Greece, from old Eome stateliness ; 
And blending these, he carri'd all men's eyes, 
While Truth sat by, counting his victories : 
Whereby he grew apace, and scorn'd to use 
Such force as once did captivate the Jews ; 
But did bewitch, and finelly work each nation 
Into a voluntarie transmigration. 
All poste to Rome : Princes submit their necks 
Either t' his publick foot or private tricks. 
It did not fit his gravitie to stirre, 
Nor his long journey, nor his gout and furre : 
Therefore he sent out able ministers. 
Statesmen within, without doores cloisterers ; 
Who without spear, or sword, or other drunmie. 
Than what was in their tongue, did overcome ; 
And having conquer' d, did so strangely rule. 
That the whole world did seem but the Pope's mule. 
As new and old Rome did one empire twist ; 
So both together are one Antichrist ; 
Yet with two faces, as their Janus was. 
Being in this their old crackt looking-glasse. 
How deare to me, God, thy counsels are I 

Who may with thee compare? 
Thus Sinne triumphs in Western Babylon; 
Yet not as Sinne, but as Religion. 
Of his two thrones he made the latter best. 
And to defray his journey from the east. 
Old and new Babylon are to hell and night. 
As is the moon and sunne to heav'n and light. 
When th' one did set, the other did take place. 
Confronting equally the law and grace. 
They are hell's land-marks, Satan's double crest : 
They are Sinne' s nipples, feeding th' east and west. 
But as in vice the copie still exceeds 



172 



HERBERT S POEMS. 



The pattern, but not so in vertuous deeds ; 
So though Sinne made his latter seat the better, 
The latter Church is to the first a debter. 
The second Temple could not reach the first : 
And the late reformation never durst 
Compare with ancient times and purer yeares ; 
But in the Jews and us deserveth tears. 
Nay, it shall ev'ry yeare decrease and fade ; 
Till such a darknesse do the world invade 
At Clirist's last coming, as his first did finde : 
Yet must there such proportions be assign' d 
To these diminishings, as is between 
The spacious world and Jurie to be seen. 
Religion stands on tip-toe in our land, 
Readie to passe to the American strand. 
When height of malice, and prodigious lusts, 
Impudent sinning, witchcrafts, and distrusts, 
(The marks of future bane,) shall fill our cup 
Unto the brimme, and make our measure up ; 
When Seine shall swallow Tiber, and the Thames 
By letting in them both, pollutes her streams : 
When Italie of us shall have her will. 
And all her calendar of sinnes fulfill ; 
Whereby one may foretell, what sinnes next yeare 
Shall both in France and England domineer : 
Then shall Religion to America flee : 
They have their times of Gospel, ev'n as we. 
My God, thou dost prepare for them a way, 
By carrying first their gold from them away : 
For gold and grace did never yet agree : 
Religion alwaies sides with povertie. 
We think we rob them, but we think amisse : 
We are more poore, and they more rich by this. 
Thou wilt revenge their quarrell, making grace 
To pay our debts, and leave our ancient place 
To go to them, while that, which now their nation 
But lends to us, shall be our desolation. 
Yet as the Church shall thither westward flie. 



THE CHURCH MILITANT. 173 

So Siiine shall trace and dog her instantly : 

They have their period also and set times 

Both for their vertuous actions and their crimes. 

And where of old the Empire and the Arts 

Usher' d the Gospel ever in men's hearts, 

Spain hath done one ; when Arts perform the other, 

The Church shall come, and Sinne the Church shall 

smother : 
That when they have accomplished the round, 
And met in th' east their first and ancient sound. 
Judgement may meet them both, and search them round. 
Thus do both lights, as well in Church as Sunne, 
Light one another, and together runne. 
Thus also Sinne and Darknesse follow still 
The Church and Sunne with all their power and skill 
But as the Sunne still goes both west and east : 
So also did the Church by going west 
Still eastward go ; because it drew more neare 
To time and place, where judgement shall ai^peare. 
How deare to me, God, thy counsels are ! 

Who may with thee compare? 



L'ENYOY. 
King of glorie, King of peace, 
With the one make warre to cease ; 
With the other blesse thy sheep, 
Thee to love, in thee to sleep. 
Let not Sinne devoure thy fold, 
Bragging that thy bloud is cold ; 
That thy death is also dead. 
While his conquests dayly spread ; 
That thy flesh hath lost his food. 
And thy Crosse is common wood. 
Choke him, let him say no more. 
But reserve his breath in store, 
Till thy conquest and his fall 



174 HERBERT S POEMS. 



Make his siglis to use it all ; 
And then bargain with the winde 
To discharge what is behind. 

Blessed he God alone, 
Thrice blessed Three in One. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



A SONNET, 

TO HIS MOTHER AS A NEW YEAR's GIFT FROM CAMBRIDGE. 

My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee, 
Wherewith whole shoals of Martyrs once did burn. 

Besides their other flames ? Poth poetry- 
Wear Venus' livery ? only serve her turn ? 

Why are not sonnets made of thee ? and lays 
Upon thine altar burnt ? Cannot thy love 

Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise 
As well as any she l Cannot thy Dove 

Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight ? 
Or, since thy ways are deep, and still the same. 
Will not a verse run smooth that bears thy name ! 

Why doth that fire, which by thy power and might 
Each breast does feel, no braver fuel choose 
Than that which, one day, worms may chance refuse. 

Sure, Lord, there is enough in thee to dry 
Oceans of ink ; for, as the Deluge did 

Cover the earth, so doth thy Majesty: 
Each cloud distDs thy praise, and doth forbid 

Poets to turn it to another use. 
Roses and lilies speak thee ; and to make 

A pair of cheeks of them, is thy abuse. 
Why should I women's eyes for crystal take? 

Such poor invention burns in their low mind 
Whose fire is wUd, and doth not upward go 
To praise, and on thee, Lord, some ink bestow. 



i 

MISCELLANEOUS. 175 \ 



Open the bones, and yon shall nothing find 
In the best face but filth ; when Lord, in thee 
The beauty lies, in the discovery. 



mSCRIPTION, 

IN THE PARSONAGE, BEMERTON, TO MY SUCCESSOR. 

If thou chance for to find 
A new house to thy mind 

And built without thy cost : 
Be good to the poor. 
As God gives thee store. 

And then my labour's not lost. 



ON LORD DANYERS. 

Sacred marble, safely keep. 

His dust, who under thee must sleep, 

Until the years again restore 

Their dead, and time shall be no more. 

Meanwhile, if he (which all things wears) 

Does ruin thee, or if thy tears 

Are shed for him ; dissolve thy frame. 

Thou art requited : for his fame. 

His virtue, and his worth shall be 

Another monument to thee. 



A PARADOX, 

THAT THE SICK ARE IN A BETTER CASE THAN THE WHOLE 

You who admire yourselves because 

You neither groan nor weep, 
And think it contrary to Nature's laws 

To want one ounce of sleep, 
Your strong belief 
Acquits yourselves, and gives the sick all grief. 



176 Herbert's poems. 



Your state to ours is contrary, 

That makes you think us poor, 

So Black-moors think us foul, and we 
Are quit with them, and more, 
Nothing can see 

And judge of things but mediocrity. 

The sick are in themselves a state 
Which health hath nought to do. 

How know you that our tears proceed from woe, 
And not from better fate ! 
Since that Mirth hath 

Her waters also and desired bath. 

How know you that the sighs we send 

From want of breath proceed, 
Not from excess ? and therefore we do spend 

That which we do not need ; 
So trembling may 
As well show inward warbling, as decay. 
Cease then to judge calamities 

By outward form and show. 
But view yourselves, and inward turn your eyes, 

Then you shall fully know 
That your estate 
Is, of the two, the far more desperate. 
You always fear to feel those smarts 

Which we but sometimes prove, 
Each little comfort much affects our hearts, 

None but gross joys you move ; 
Why then confess 
Your fears in number more, your joys are less 
Then for yourselves not us embrace 

Plaints to bad fortune due. 
For though you visit us, and plaint or case, 

We doubt much whether you 
Come to our. bed 
•Do comfort us, or to be comforted. 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE; 



OR, 



THE COUNTEY PAESON, 

HIS CHAEACTEK, AND EULE OF HOLT LIFE. 



THE AtlTHOE TO THE EEADEE. 



Being desirous (through the mercy of God) to please hhn, 
for whom I am, and live, and who giveth me my desires and 
performances ; and considering with myself, that the way to 
please him is to feed my flock diligently and faithfully, since 
our Saviour hath made that the argument of a Pastor's love, 
I have resolved to set down the form and character of a true 
Pastor, that I may have a mark to aim at : whi.ch also I will 
set as high as I can, since he shoots higher that threatens 
the moon, than he that aims at a tree. Not that I think, if 
a man do not all which is here expressed, he presently sins, 
and displeases God, hut that it is a good strife to go as far as 
we can in pleasing him, who hath done so much for us. The 
Lord prosper the intention to myself and others, who may 
not despise my poor labours, but add to those points which I 
have observed, until the book grow to a complete pastoral. 

GEO. HERBERT. 

1632. 



A PEIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 



CHAPTER I. 

OF A PASTOR. 

A Pastor is the doputy of Christ for the reducing of man 
CO the obedience of God. This definition is evident, and 
contains the direct steps of pastoral duty and authority. 
For, first, man fell from God by disobedience. Secondly, 
Christ is the glorious instrument of God for the revoking of 
man. Thirdly, Christ being not to continue on earth, but 
after he had fulfilled the work of reconciliation to be received 
up into heaven, he constituted deputies in his place, and 
these are Priests. And therefore St Paul, in the beginning 
of his Epistles, professeth this : and in the first to the Colos- 
sians plainly avoucheth that he fills up that which is behind 
of the afilictions of Christ in his flesh, for his body's sake, 
which is the Chiu-ch, wherein is contained the complete 
definition of a minister. Out of this charter of the priest- 
hood may be plainly gathered both the dignity thereof and 
the duty : The dignity, in that a priest may do that which 
Christ did, and by his authority, and as his vicegerent ; the 
duty, in that a priest is to do that which Chi'ist did, and 



CHAPTER II, 

THEIR DIVERSITIES. 



Of Pastors (intending mine own nation only, and also 
therein setting aside the reverend prelates of the Church, to 



180 Herbert's prose works. 

whom this discourse ariseth not); some live in the univerbities, 
some in noble houses, some in parishes residing on their 
cures. Of those that live in the miiversities, some live there 
in office, whose rule is that of the apostle, Romans xii. 6 : 
" Having gifts, differing according to the grace that is given 
to us, whether prophesy, let us prophecy according to the 
proportion of faith ; or ministry, let us wait on our minis- 
tering ; or he that teacheth, on teaching, &c. ; he that ruleth, 
let him do it with diligence," &c. Some in a preparatory- 
way, whose aim and labour must be not only to get knoAV- 
ledge, but to subdue and mortify all lusts and affections : and 
not to think, that when they have read the Fathers or 
Schoolmen, a minister is made, and the thing done. The 
greatest and hardest preparation is within : for unto the 
godly saith God, "Why dost thou preach my laws, and 
take my covenant in thy mouth?" (Psalm 1. 16). Those 
that live in noble houses are called Chaplains, whose duty 
and obligation being the same to the houses they live in as 
a Parson's to his parish, in describing the one (which is 
indeed the bent of my discourse) the other will be manifest. 
Let not chaplains think themselves so free, as many of tliem 
do, and because they have different names, think their office 
different. Doubtless they are Parsons of the families they 
live in, and are entertained to that end, either by an open 
or implicit covenant. Before they are in orders, they may 
be received for companions or discoiu-sers ; but after a man 
is once minister, he cannot agi'ee to come into any house, 
where he shall not exercise what he is, unless he forsake his 
plough, and look back. Wherefore they are not to be over- 
submissive and base, but to keep up with the lord and lady 
of the house, and to preserve a boldness with them and all, 
even so far as reproof to their very face, when occasion calls, 
but seasonably and discreetly. They who do not thus, while 
they remember their earthly lord, do much forget their 
heavenly; they wrong the priesthood, neglect their duty, 
and shall be so far from that which they seek with their 
over-submissiveness and cringing, tliat they shall ever be 
despised. They who for the hope of promotion neglect any 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 181 

necessary admonition or reproof, sell (with. Judas) tlieir 
Lord and Master. 



CHAPTER III. 



THE PARSON S LIFE. 



The country Parson is exceeding exact in his life, being 
holy, just, prudent, temperate, bold, grave, in all his ways. 
And because the two highest points of life, wherein a Chris- 
tian is most seen, are patience and mortification ; patience 
in regard of afflictions, mortification in regard of lusts and 
affections, and the stupifying and deading of all the clamor- 
ous powers of the soul, therefore he hath thoroughly studied 
these, that he may be an absolute master and commander of 
himself, for all the pm-poses which God hath ordained him. 
Yet in these points he labours most in those things which 
are most apt to scandalize his parish. And first. Because 
country people live hardly, and therefore as feeling their own 
sweat, and consequently knowing the price of money, are 
offended much with any who, by hard usage, increase their 
travail, the country Parson is very circumspect in avoiding 
all covetousness, neither being gTeedy to get, nor niggardly to 
keep, nor troubled to lose any worldly wealth ; but in all his 
•words and actions slighting and disesteeming it, even to a 
•wondering that the world should so much value -wealth, 
whicb in the day of wrath hath not one dram of comfort for 
us. Secondly, Because luxury is a very visible sia, the 
Parson is very careful to avoid all lands thereof, but espe- 
cially that of drinking, because it is the most popular vice ; 
into which if he come, he prostitutes himself both to shame 
and sin, and by having fellowship with the unfruitful works 
of darkness, he disableth himself of authority to reprove 
them ; for sins make all equal whom they find together ; and 
then they are worst who ought to be best. Neither is it for 
the servant of Christ to haunt inns, or taverns, oj alehouses, 
to the dishonour of his person and office. The Parson doth 



182 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

not SO, but orders his life in such a fashion, that when death 
takes him, as the Jews and Judas did Christ, he may say as 
He did, " I sat daily with you teaching in the Temple." 
Thirdly, Because country people (as indeed all honest men) 
do much esteem their word, it being the life of buying and 
selling and dealing in the world ; therefore the Parson is 
very strict in keeping his word, though it be to his own hin- 
drance, as knowing that if he be not so, he will quickly be 
discovered and disregarded : neither will they believe him in 
the pulpit, whom they cannot trust in his conversation. As 
for oaths, and apparel, the disorders thereof are also very 
manifest. The Parson's yea is yea, and nay, nay ; and his 
apparel plain, but reverend and clean, without spots, or dust, 
or smell ; the purity of his mind breaking out, and dilating 
itself even to his body, clothes, and habitation. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE parson's knowledge. 

The country Parson is full of all knowledge. They say 
it is an ill mason that refuseth any stone : and there is no 
knowledge but, in a skilful hand, serves either positively as 
it is, or else to illustrate some other knowledge. He con- 
descends even to the knowledge of tillage and pasturage, and 
makes great use of them in teaching, because people by what 
they understand are best led to what they understand not 
But the chief and top of his knowledge consists in the book 
of books, the storehouse and magazine of life and comfort, 
the Holy Scriptures. There he sucks, and lives. In the 
Scriptures he finds four things ; precepts for life, doctrines 
for knowledge, examples for illustration, and promises for 
comfort : these he hath digested severally. But for the 
understanding of these ; the means he useth are, first, a holy 
life, remembering what his Master saith, that " if any do 
God's will, he shall know of the doctrine" (John vii.) ; and 
assuring himself that wicked men, however learned, do not 



A PRIEST TO THE TE3IPLE. 183 

know th.e Scriptures, because they feel them not, and because 
they are not understood but with the same Spirit that writ 
them. The second means is prayer, which if it be necessaiy 
even in temporal things, how much more in things of another 
world, where the well is deep, and we have nothing of our- 
selves to draw with ? Wherefore he ever begins the reading 
of the Scripture with some short inward ejaculation, as, 
" Lord open mine eyes, that I may see the wondrous things 
of thy law," &c. The third means is a diligent collation of 
Scripture with Scripture. For all truth being consonant to 
itself, and all being penned by one and the self-same Spirit, 
it cannot be but that an industrious and judicious comparing 
of place with place, must be a singiilar help for the right 
imderstanding of the Scriptures. To this may be added the 
consideration of any text with the coherence thereof, touching 
what goes before, and what follows after, as also the scope of 
the Holy Ghost. When the apostles would have called 
down fire from heaven, they were reproved, as ignorant of 
what spirit they were. For the Law required one thing, and 
the Gospel another : yet as diverse, not as repugnant : 
therefore the spirit of both is to be considered, and weighed. 
The fourth means are commenters and fathers, who have 
handled the places controverted, which the Parson by no 
means refuseth. As he doth not so study others, as to 
neglect the grace of God in himself, and what the Holy 
Spirit teacheth him ; so doth he assure himself, that God 
in all ages hath had his servants, to whom he hath revealed 
his truth, as well as to him ; and that as one country doth 
not bear all things, that there may be a commerce, so neither 
hath God opened or will open all to one, that there may be 
a traffic in knowledge between the servants of God, for the 
planting both of love and humility. Wherefore he hath one 
comment at least upon every book of Scripture, and ploughing 
with this, and his own meditations, he enters into the secrets 
of God treasured in the Holy Scripture. 



184 Herbert's prose works. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE parson's accessory KNOWLEDGES. 

The country Parson hath read the Fathers also, and the 
Schoolmen, and the later writers, or a good proportion of 
all, out of all which he hath compiled a book and body of 
divinity, which is the storehouse of his sermons, and which 
he preacheth all his life ; but diversely clothed, illustrated, 
and enlarged. For though the world is full of sucli com- 
posures, yet every man's own is fittest, readiest, and most 
savoury to him. Besides, this being to be done in his 
younger and preparatory times, it is an honest joy ever after 
to look upon his well-spent hours. This body he made by 
way of expounding the Church Catechism, to wliich all 
divinity may easily be reduced. For it being indifferent in 
itself to choose any method, that is best to be chosen of which 
there is hkeliest to be most use. Now catechising being a 
work of singular and admirable benefit to the Church of God, 
and a tiling required under canonical obedience, the expound- 
ing of our catechism must needs be the most useful form. 
Yet hath the Parson, besides this laborious work, a slighter 
form of catechising, fitter for country people ; according 
as his audience is, so he useth one or other, or sometimes 
both, if his audience be intermixed. He greatly esteems 
also of cases of conscience, wherein he is much vexed. And 
indeed herein is the greatest ability of a Parson, to lead his 
people exactly in the ways of truth, so that they neither 
decline to the right hand nor to the left. Neither let any 
think this a slight thing. For every one hath not digested, 
when it is a sin to take something for money lent, or when 
not ; when it is a fault to discover another's fault, or when 
not ; when the affections of the soul in desiring and procur- 
ing increase of means or honour be a sin of covetousness or 
ambition, and when not ; when the appetites of the body in 
eating, drinking, sleep, and the pleasure that comes with 
sleep, be sins of gluttony, drunkenness, sloth, lust, and when 



A PEIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 185 

not ; and so in many circumstances of actions. Now if a 
shepherd know not what grass wHl bane, or which not, how 
is he fit to be a shepherd? Wherefore the Parson hath 
thoroughly canvassed all the particulars of human actions, at 
least all those which he observeth are most incident to his 
parish. 



CHAPTER YI. 

THE PARSON PRAYING. 

The country Parson, when he is to read divine services, 
composeth himself to all possible reverence ; lifting up his 
heart and hands and eyes, and usmg all other gestm-es which 
may express a hearty and mifeigned devotion. Tliis he doth, 
first, as being truly touched and amazed with the majesty of 
God, before whom he then presents himself ; yet not as him- 
seK alone, but as presenting with himself the whole congre- 
gation ; whose sins he then bears, and brings with his own 
to the heavenly altar to be bathed and washed in the sacred 
laver of Christ's blood. Secondly, as this is the true reason 
of his inward fear, so he is content to express this outwardly 
to the utmost of his power ; that being at first afi'ected him- 
self, he may afi"ect also his people, knowing that no sermon 
moves them so much to reverence, which they forget again 
when they come to pray, as a devout behaviour in the very 
act of praying. Accordingly, his voice is hiunble, his words 
treatable and slow; yet not so slow neither as to let the fer- 
vency of the supphcant hang and die between speaking, but 
with a grave liveliness, between fear and zeal, pausing yet 
pressing, he performs his duty. Besides his example, he 
having often instructed his people how to carry themselves 
in divine service, exacts of them all possible reverence, by no 
means enduring either talking, or sleeping, or gazing, or 
leaning, or half-kneeling, or any undutiful behaviour in them, 
but causing them, when they sit, or stand, or kneel, to do all 
in a straight and steady posture, as attending to what is done 
in the church, and every one, man and chUd, answering aloud 



186 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

both Amen, and all other answers, which are on the clerk's 
and people's part to answer ; which answers also are to be done 
not in a huddling or slubbering fashion, gaping or scratching 
the head, or spitting even in the midst of their answer, but 
gently and pausably, thinking wliat they say; so that while 
they answer, "As it was in the beginning," &c., they medi- 
tate as they speak, that God hath ever had his people, that 
have glorified him as well as now, and that he shall have so 
for ever. And the like in other answers. This is that which 
the apostle calls a reasonable service (Romans xii.), when we 
speak not as parrots, without reason, or offer up such sacri- 
fices as they did of old, which was of beasts devoid of reason; 
but when we use our reason, and apply our powers to the 
service of Him that gives them. If there be any of the gentry 
or nobility of the parish who sometimes make it a piece of 
state not to come at the beginning of service with their poor 
neighbours, but at mid-prayers, both to their own loss and of 
theirs also who gaze upon them when they come in, and 
neglect the present service of God, he by no means suffers 
it, but after divers gentle admonitions, if they persevere, he 
causes them to be presented : or if the poor churchwardens 
be affrighted with their greatness, notwithstanding his in- 
struction that they ought not to be so, but even to let the 
world sink, so they do their duty, he presents them himself ; 
only protesting to them, that not any ill-will di-aws him to 
it, but- the debt and obligation of Iris palling, being to obey 
Ood rather than men. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE PARSON PREACHING. 

The country Parson preacheth constantly ; the pulpit is 
his joy and his throne. If he at any time intermit, it is 
either for want of health, or against some great festival, that 
he may the better celebrate it, or for the variety of the 
hearers, that he may be heard at his return more attentively. 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 187 

When he intermits, he is ever well supplied by some able 
man, who treads in his steps, and will not throw down what 
he hath built ; whom also he entreats to press some point, 
that he himself hath often iirged with no great success, that 
so, in the mouth of two or three witnesses, the truth may be 
more established. When he preacheth, he procures attention 
by all possible art, both by earnestness of speech, it being 
natural to men to think that where is much earnestness 
there is somewhat worth hearing, and by a diligent and busy 
cast of his eye on his auditors, with letting them know that 
he observes who marks and who not ; and with particular- 
izing of his speech now to the younger sort, then to the elder; 
now to the poor, and now to the rich : This is for you ; and, 
This is for you ; for particulars ever touch, and awake more 
than generals. Herein also he serves himself of the judg- 
ments of God, as of those of ancient times, so especially of 
the late ones ; and those most which are nearest to his 
parish ; for people are very attentive at such discourses, and 
think it behoves them to be so, when God is so near them, 
and even over their heads. Sometimes he tells them stories 
and sayings of others, according as his text invites him ; for 
them also men heed and remember better than exhortations, 
which, though earnest, yet often die with the sermon, espe- 
cially with country people, who are thick and heavy, and 
hard to raise to a point of zeal and fervency, and need a 
mountain of fire to kindle them; but stories and sayings 
they will well remember. He often tells them that sermons 
are dangerous things ; that none goes out of church as he 
came in, but either better or worse ; that none is careless 
before his Judge, and that the Word of God shall judge us. 
By these and other means the Parson procures attention. 
The character of his sermon is holiness ; he is not witty, or 
learned, or eloquent, but holy : a character that Hermogenes 
never dreamed of, and therefore he could give no precept 
thereof. But it is gained, first, by choosing texts of devo- 
tion, not controversy — moving and ravishing texts, whereof 
the Scriptures are full. Secondly, by dipping and seasoning 
all our words and sentences in our hearts, before they come 



188 herbeht's prose works. 



into our mouths, truly affecting and cordially expressing all 
that we say ; so that the auditors may plainly perceive that 
every word is heart-deep. Thh-dly, by turning often, and 
making many apostrophes to God; as, Lord bless my 
people, and teach them this point; or, my Master, on 
whose errand I come, let me hold my peace, and do thou 
speak thyself; for thou art love, and when thou teachest, all 
are scholars. Some such irradiations scatteringiy in the 
sermon carry great holiness in them. The prophets are ad- 
mirable in this. So Isaiah Ixiv,, " that thou wouldst rend 
the heavens, that thou wouldst come down," &;c. And 
Jeremiah x., after he had complained of the desolation of 
Israel, tm-ns to God suddenly, " Lord, I know that the way 
of man is not in himself," &c. Foiu'thly, by frequent wishes 
of the people's good, and joying therein, though he himself 
were with St Paul even sacrificed upon the service of their 
faith. For there is no greater sign of holiness than the pro- 
cming and rejoicing in another's good. And herein St Paul 
excelled in all liis Epistles. How did he put the Romans in 
all his prayers (Rom. i. 9) ; and ceased not to give thanks for 
the Ephesians (Eph. i. 16), and for the Corinthians (chap. i. 
4) ; and for the Philippians made request with joy (chap. i. 4) ; 
and is in contention for them, whether to live or die ; be 
with them, or Chiist (verse 23), which, setting aside his care 
of his flock, were a madness to doubt of ? What an admir- 
able epistle is the Second to the Corinthians ! how full of 
affections ! he joys, and he is sorry ; he giieves, and he glories; 
never was there such care of a flock expressed, save in the 
great Shepherd of the fold, who first shed tears over Jeru- 
salem, and afterwards blood. Therefore this care may be 
learned there, and then woven into sermons, which will make 
them appear exceeding reverend and holy. Lastly, by an 
often m-ging of the presence and majesty of God, by these or 
such like speeches: Oh let us all take heed what we do! 
God sees us ; He sees whether I speak as I ought or you hear 
as you ought : He sees hearts as we see faces ; He is among 
us, for if we be here he must be here, since we are here by 
him, and without him could not be here. Then turning the 






A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 189 

discoui'se to his majesty : And lie is a great God and terrible, 
as great in mercy, so great in judgment. There are but two 
devoming elements, fire and water ; he hath both in him : 
" Eis voice is as the sound of many waters" (Revelation i.), 
and " He himself is a consuming fire" (Hebrews xii.) Such 
discourses show very holy. The Parson's method in handling 
of a text consists of two parts : First, a plain and evident 
declaration of the meaning of the text ; and, secondly, some 
choice observations dra"\vn out of the whole text, as it lies 
entire and unbroken in the Scripture itself. This he thinks 
natural, and sweet, and grave. Whereas the other way of 
crumbling a text into small parts, as the person speaking or 
spoken to, the subject and object, and the like, hath neither 
in it sweetness, nor gravity, nor variety, since the words 
apart are not Scripture, but a dictionaiy, and may be con- 
sidered alike in all the Scripture. The Parson exceeds not 
an hour in preaching, because all ages have thought that a 
competency ; and he that profits not in that time will less 
afterwards, the same afi"ection which made him not profit 
before making him then weary, and so he grows from not 
relishing to loathing. 



CHAPTER Vni. 

THE PARSON ON SUNDAYS. 

The country Parson, as soon as he awakes on Sunday 
morning, presently falls to work, and seems to himself so as 
a market-man is when the market-day comes, or a shop- 
keeper when customers come in. His thoughts are full of 
making the best of the day, and contriving it to his best 
gains. To this end, besides his ordinary prayers, he makes 
a peculiar one for a blessing on the exercises of the day. 
That nothing befall him unworthy of that Majesty before 
which he is to present himself, but that all may be done 
with reverence to his glory, and with edification to his flock, 
humbly beseeching Jiis Master, that how or whenever he 
punish him, it be not in his ministry. Then he turns to 



190 Herbert's prose works. 

request for his people that the Lord would be pleased to 
sanctify them all, that they may come with holy hearts and 
awful minds into the congregation, and that the good Grod 
would pardon all those who come with less prepared hearts 
than they ought. This done, he sets himself to the consi- 
deration of the duties of the day ; and if there be any extra- 
ordinary addition to the customary exercises, either from the 
time of the year, or from the State, or from God ; by a child 
born, or dead, or any other accident, he contrives how and 
in what manner to induce it to the best advaiitage. After- 
wards when the hour calls, with his family attending him, he 
goes to church, at his first entrance humbly adoring and wor- 
shipping the invisible majesty and presence of Almighty God, 
and blessing the people either openly or to himself. Then 
having read divine service twice fully, and preached in the 
morning, and catechised in the afternoon, he thinks he hath 
in some measure, according to poor and frail man, discharged 
the public duties of the congregation. The rest of the day 
he spends either in reconciling neighbours that are at vari- 
ance, or in visiting the sick, or in exhortations to some of his 
flock by themselves, whom his sermons cannot or do not 
reach. And every one is more awaked, when we come and 
say. Thou art the man. This way he finds exceeding useful 
and winning ; and these exhortations he calls his privy purse, 
even as princes have theirs, besides their public disburse- 
ments. At night he thinks it a very fit time, both suitable 
to the joy of the day and without hinderance to public duties, 
either to entertain some of his neighbours or to be enter- 
tained of them, where he takes occasion to discourse of such 
things as are both profitable and pleasant, and to raise up 
their minds to apprehend God's good blessing to our Church 
and State ; that order is kept in the one, and peace in the 
other, without disturbance or inteiTuption of public divine 
offices. As he opened the day with prayer so he closeth it, 
humbly beseeching the Almiglity to pardon and accept our 
poor services, and to improve them, that we may grow therein, 
and that our feet may be like hind's feet, ever climbing up 
higher and higher unto Him. 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. lf)l 

CHAPTER IX. 

TSE parson's state OF LIFE. 

The country Parson considering that virginity is a higher 
state than matrimony, and that the ministry requires the 
best and highest things, is rather unmarried than married. 
But yet as the temper of his body may be, or as the temper 
of his parish may be, where he may have occasion to converse 
with women, and that among suspicious men, and other like 
circumstances considered, lie is rather married than unmar- 
ried. Let him communicate the thing often by prayer unto 
God, and as his grace shall direct him, so let him proceed. 
If he be unmarried and keep house, he hath not a woman in 
his house, but finds opportunities of having his meat dressed 
and other services done by men-servants at home, and his 
linen washed abroad. If he be unmarried and sojourn, he 
never talks with any woman alone, but in the audience of 
others, and that seldom, and then also in a serious manner, 
never jestingly or sportfully. He is very circumspect in all 
companies, both of his behaviour, speech, and very looks, 
knowing himself to be both suspected and envied. If he 
stands steadfast in his heart, having no necessity, but hath 
power over his own will, and hath so decreed in his heart 
that he will keep himself a virgin, he spends his days in 
fasting and prayer, and blesseth God for the gift of continency, 
knowing that it can no way be preserved but only by those 
means by which at first it was obtained. He therefore thinks 
it not enough for him to observe the fasting days of the 
Church, and the daily prayers enjoined him by authority, 
which he observeth out of humble conformity and obedience ; 
but adds to them, out of choice and devotion, some other 
days for fasting, and hours for prayers ; and by these he 
keeps his body tame, serviceable, and healthful, and his 
soul fervent, active, young, and lusty as an eagle. He often 
readeth the lives of the primitive monks, hermits, and virgins, 
and wondereth not so much at their patient suffering and 



i 

102 Herbert's prose tvorks. 

cheerful dying under persecuting emperors (though' that 
indeed be very admirable), as at their daily temperance, 
abstinence, watchings, and constant prayers and mortifications 
in the times of peace and prosperity. To put on the profound 
humility and the exact temperance of our Lord Jesus, with 
other exemplary virtues of that sort, and to keep them on in 
the sunshine and noon of prosperity, he findeth to be as 
necessary, and as difficult at least, as to be clothed with per- 
fect patience and Christian fortitude in the cold midnight 
storms of persecution and adversity. He keepeth his watch 
and ward, night and day, against the proper and peculiar 
temptations of his state of life, which are principally these 
two, spiritual pride and impurity of heart ; against these 
ghostly enemies he girdeth up his loins, keeps the imagina- 
tion from roving, puts on the whole armour of God, and by 
the virtue of the shield of faith he is not afraid of the pesti- 
lence that walketh in darkness [carnal impurity], nor of the 
sickness that destroyeth at noon-day [ghostly pride and self- 
conceit]. Other temptations he hath, which like mortal 
enemies may sometimes disquiet him likewise ; for the 
human soul being bounded and kept in her sensitive faculty, 
will run out more or less in her intellectual. Original 
concupiscence is such an active thing, by reason of continual 
inward or outward temptations, that it is ever attempting or 
doing one mischief or other. Ambition or untimely desu'e 
of promotion to a higher state .or place, under colour of 
accommodation or necessary provision, is a common tempta- 
tion to men of any eminence, especially being single men. 
Curiosity in prying into high speculative and unprofitable 
questions, is another great stumbhng-block to the holiness of 
scholars. These and many other spiritual wickednesses in 
high places doth the Parson fear, or experiment, or both ; 
and that much more being single than if he were married ; 
for then commonly the stream of temptations is turned 
another way, into covetousness, love of pleasure, or ease, or 
the like. If the Parson be unmarried, and means to continue 
so, he doth at least as much as hath been said. If he be 
married, the choice of his wife was made rather by liis ear 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE, 193 

than by his eye ; his judgment, not his affection, found out 
a fit wife for him, whose humble and hberal disposition he 
preferred before beauty, riches, or honour. He knew that 
(the good instrument of God to bring woman to heaven) a 
wise and loving husband could, out of humility, produce any 
special grace of faith, patience, meekness, love, obedience, 
&c., and out of liberality make her fruitful in all good works. 
As he is just in all things, so is he to his wife also, counting 
nothing so much his own as that he may be unjust unto 
it. Therefore he gives her respect both afore her servants 
and others, and half at least of the government of the house, 
reserving so much of the affairs as serve for a diversion for 
him ; yet never so giving over the reins, but that he some- 
times looks how things go, demanding an account, but not 
by the way of an account. And this must be done the 
oftener, or the seldonier, according as he is satisfied of his 
wife's discretion. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE PARSON IN HIS HOUSE 

The Parson is very exact in the governing of his house, 
making it a copy and model for bis parish. He knows the 
temper and pulse of every person in his house, and accord- 
ingly either meets with their vices or advanceth their virtues. 
His wife is either religious, or night and day he is vsdnning 
her to it. Instead of the qualities of the world, he requires 
only three of her ; first, a training up of her children and 
maids in the fear of God, with prayers, and catechising, and 
all religious duties. Secondly, a curing and healing of all 
wounds and sores with her own hands ; which skill either she 
brought with her, or he takes care she shall learn it of some 
religious neighbour. Thirdly, a providing for her family in 
such sort, as that neither they want a competent sustenta- 
tion, nor her husband be brought in debt. His children he 
first makes Christians, and then Commonwealth's men ; the 

N 



104 HERBERT S PROSE -SVORKS. 

one be owes to his heavenly country, the other to his eartlily, 
having no title to either, except he do good to both. There- 
fore having seasoned them with all piety, not only of words 
in praying and reading, but in actions, in visiting other sick 
children, and tending their wounds, and sending his charity 
by them to the poor, and sometimes giving them a little 
money to do it of themselves, that they get a delight in it, 
and enter favour with God, who weighs even children's 
actions (1 Kings xiv. 12, 13). He afterwards turns his care 
to fit all their dispositions with some calling, not sparing the 
eldest, but giving him the prerogative of his father's profes- 
sion, which happily for his other children he is not able to 
do. Yet in binding them apprentices (in case he think fit 
to do so) he takes care not to put them into vain trades, and 
unbefitting the reverence of their father's calling, such as 
are taverns for men, and lace-making for women ; because 
those trades, for the most part, serve but the vices and 
vanities of the world, which he is to deny and not augment. 
However, he resolves with himself never to omit any present 
good deed of charity, in consideration of providing a stock 
for his children ; but assures himself, that money, thus lent 
to God, is placed surer for his children's advantage, than if 
it were given to the chamber of London. Good deeds, and 
good breeding, are his two great stocks for his childi-en ; if 
God give anything above those, and not spent in them, he 
blesseth God, and lays it out as he sees cause. His servants 
are all religious, and were it not his duty to have them so, 
it were his profit, for none are so well served as by religious 
servants, both because they do best, and because what they 
do is blessed and prospers. After religion, he teacheth them 
that three things make a complete servant, truth, and 
diligence, and neatness or cleanliness. Those that can read 
are allowed times for it, and those that cannot are taught ; 
for all in his house are either teachers or learners, or both, 
so that his family is a school of religion, and they all account 
that to teach the ignorant is the greatest alms. Even the 
walls are not idle, but something is written or painted there, 
which may excite the reader to a thought of piety : espe- 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 195 

cially the 101st Psalm, which is expressed in a fair table, as 
being the rule of a family. And when they go abroad, his 
wife among her neighbours is the beginner of good dis- 
courses, his children among children, his servants among 
other servants ; so that as in the house of those that are 
skilled in music all are musicians, so in the house of a 
preacher all are preachers. He suffers not a lie or equivoca- 
tion by any means in his house, but counts it the art and 
secret of governing, to preserve a directness and open plain- 
ness in all things ; so that all his house knows that there is 
no help for a fault done but confession. He himself, or his 
wife, takes account of sermons, and how every one profits, 
comparing this year with the last : and besides the common 
prayers of the family, he straitly requires of all to pray by 
themselves before they sleep at night, and stir out in the 
morning, and knows what prayers they say, and till they 
have learned them, makes them kneel by him ; esteeming 
that this private praying is a more voluntary act in them, 
than when they are called to others' prayers, and that which 
when they leave the family they carry with them. He keeps 
his servants between love and fear, according as he finds 
them ; but generally he distributes it thus : to his children 
he shows more love than terror, to his servants more terror 
than love ; but an old good servant boards as a child. The 
furniture of his house is very plain, but clean, whole, and 
sweet, as sweet as his garden can make ; for he hath no 
money for such things, charity being his only perfume, 
which deserves cost when he can spare it. His fare is plain 
and common, but wholesome ; what he hath is little, but 
very good ; it consisteth most of mutton, beef, and veal : if 
he adds anything for a great day or a stranger, his garden 
or orchard supplies it, or his barn and yard: he goes no 
further for any entertainment, lest he go into the world, 
esteeming it absurd that he should exceed who teacheth 
others temperance. But those which his home produceth 
he refuseth not, as coming cheap and easy, and arising from 
the improvement of things which otherwise would be lost. 
Wherein he admires and imitates the wonderful providence 



196 Herbert's prose works. 

and thrift of the great Householder of the world : for there 
being two things which as they are, are unuseful to man, 
the one for smallness, as crumbs and scattered corn, and the 
like : the other for the foulness, as wash and dirt, and things 
thereinto fallen, God hath provided creatures for both ; for 
the first, poultry, for the second, swine. These save maa 
the labour and doing that which either he could not do, or 
was not fit for him to do, by taking both sorts of food into 
them, do as it were and dress and prepare both for man in 
themselves, by growing themselves fit for his table. The 
Parson in his house observes fasting days ; and particularly, 
as Sunday is his day of joy, so Friday his day of humihation, 
which he celebrates not only with abstinence of diet, but 
also of company, recreation, and all outward contentments ; 
and besides, with confession of sins and all acts of mortifica- 
tion. Now fasting days contain a treble obligation : First, of 
eating less that day than on other days : secondly, of eating 
no pleasing or over-nourishing things, as the Israelites did 
eat sour herbs : thirdly, of eating no flesh, which is but the 
determination of the second rule by authority to this parti- 
cular. The two former obligations are much more essential 
to a true fast than the third and last ; and fasting days were 
fully performed by keeping the two former, had not authority 
interposed ; so that to eat little, and that unpleasant, is the 
natural rule of fasting, although it be flesh. For since 
fasting in Scripture language is an afflicting of our souls, if 
a piece of dry flesh at my table be more unpleasant to me 
than some fish there, certainly to eat the flesh and not the 
fish, is to keep the fasting day naturally. And it is observ- 
able, that the prohibiting of flesh came from hot countries, 
where both flesh alone, and much more with wine, is apt to 
nourish more than in cold regions, and where flesh may be 
much better spared, and with more safety than elsewhere, 
where both the people and the drink being cold and phleg- 
matic, the eating of flesh is an antidote to both. For it is 
certain, that a weak stomach, being prepossessed with flesh, 
shall much better brook and bear a draught of beer, than if 
it had taken before either fish or roots, or such things; 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 197 

which will discover itself by spitting, and rheum, or phlegm. 
To conclude, the Parson, if he be in full health, keeps the 
three obligations, eating fish or roots, and that for quantity- 
little, for quality unpleasant. If his body be weak and 
obstructed, as most students' are, he cannot keep the last 
obligation, nor suffer others in his house that are so, to keep 
it ; but only the two former, which also in diseases of exin- 
anition (as consumptions) must be broken ; for meat was 
made for man, not man for meat. To all this may be added, 
not for emboldening the unruly, but for the comfort of the 
weak, that not only sickness breaks these obligations of 
fasting, but sickliness also. For it is as unnatural to do 
anything that leads me to a sickness, to which I am inclined, 
as not to get out of that sickness, when I am in it, by any 
diet. One thing is evident, that an English body and a 
student's body are two great obstructed vessels, and there 
is nothing that is food, and not physic, which doth less 
obstruct than flesh moderately taken ; as being immoderately 
taken, it is exceedingly obstructive. And obstructions are 
the cause of most diseases. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE PAESON's courtesy. 

The country Parson owing a debt of charity to the poor, 
and of courtesy to his other parishioners, he so distinguisheth 
that he keeps his money for the poor and his table for those 
that are above alms. Not but that the poor are welcome 
also to his table, whom he sometimes purposely takes home 
with him, setting them close by him, and carving for them, 
both for his own humUity and their comfort, who are much 
cheered with such friendlinesse. But since both is to be 
done, the better sort invited, and meaner relieved, he 
chooseth rather to give the poor money, which they can 
better employ to their own advantage, and suitably to their 
needs, than so much given in meat at dinner. Having then 
invited some of his parish, he taketh his times to do the like 



198 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. « 

to the rest ; so that in the compass of the year, he hath them 
all with him, because country people are very observant of 
such things, and will not be persuaded but being not invited 
they are hated ; which persuasion the Parson by all means 
avoids, knowing that where there are such conceits, there is 
no room for his doctrine to enter. Yet doth he oftenest in- 
vite those whom he sees take best courses, that so both they 
may be encouraged to persevere, and others spurred to do 
well, that they may enjoy the like courtesy. For though he 
desire that all should live well and virtuously, not for any re- 
ward of his but for virtue's sake, yet that will not be so ; and 
therefore as God, although we should love him only for his 
own sake, yet out of his infinite pity hath set forth heaven 
for a reward to draw men to piety, and is content, if at least 
so they will become good ; so the country Parson, who is a 
diligent observer and tracker of God's ways, sets up as many 
encouragements to goodness as he can, both in honour, and 
profit, and fame ; that he may, if not the best way, yet any 
way, make his parish good. 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE parson's charity.. 

The country Parson is full of charity ; it is his predominant 
element : for many and wonderful things are spoken of thee, 
thou great virtue ! To charity is given the covering of sins 
(1 Pet. iv. 8) ; and the forgiveness of sins (Matthew vi. 14, 
Luke vii. 47) ; the fulfilling of the law (Romans xiii. 10) ; the 
life of faith (James ii. 26) ; the blessings of this life (Proverbs 
xxii. 9, Psalm xli. 2) ; and the reward of the next (Matthew 
XXV. 35). In brief, it is the body of religion (John xiii. 35), 
and the top of Christian virtues. (1 Corinthians xiii.) Where- 
fore all his works relish of charity. When he riseth in the 
morning, he bethink eth himself what good deeds he can do 
that day, and presently doth them ; counting that day lost 
wherein he hath not exercised his charity. He first considers 




He takes care thattliere be not a "beggar or 
idle person in Ms parisli. "but that aUbe m a, 
competent waj of gettuig iteir itviag. 

Eie Parsons Chaiilj p.l99. 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 199 



his own parish, and takes care that there be not a beggar or 
idle person in his parish, but that all be in a competent way 
of getting their living. This he effects either by bounty, or 
persuasion, or by authority, making use of that excellent 
statute which binds all parishes to maintain their own. If 
his parish be rich, he exacts this of them ; if poor, and he 
able, he easeth them therein. But he gives no set pension 
to any; for this in time will lose the name and effect of 
charity with the poor people, though not with God ; for then 
they will reckon upon it as on a debt ; and if it be taken 
away, though justly, they will murmur, and repine as much 
as he that is disseized of his own inheritance. But the 
Parson having a double aim, and making a hook of his 
charity, causeth them still to depend on him ; and so by 
eontinual and fresh bounties, unexpected to them, but re- 
solved to himself, he wins them to praise God more, to live 
more religiously, and to take more pains in their vocation, 
as not knowing when they shall be relieved ; which otherwise 
they would reckon upon and turn to idleness. Besides this 
general provision, he hath other times of opening his hand ; 
as at great festivals and communions ; not suffering any that 
day that he receives to want a good meal suiting to the joy 
of the occasion. But specially, at hard times, and dearths, 
he even parts his living and life among them, giving some 
corn outright, and selling other at under rates ; and when 
his own stock serves not, working those that are able to the 
same charity, still pressing it in the pulpit and out of the 
pulpit, and never leaving them till he obtain his desire. Yet 
in all his charity, he distinguisheth, giving them most who 
live best, and take most pains, and are most charged : so is 
his charity in effect a sermon. After the consideration of his 
own parish, he enlargeth himself, if he be able, to the neigh- 
bourhood ; for that also is some kind of obligation ; so doth he 
also to those at his door, whom God puts in his way, and makes 
his neighbours. But these he helps not without some testi- 
mony, except the evidence of the misery bring testimony with 
it. For though these testimonies also may be falsified, yet 
considering that the law allows these in case they be true, but 



200 Herbert's prose works. 

allows by no means to give without testimony, as lie obeys 
authority in the one, so that being once satisfied, he allows 
his charity some blindness in the other ; especially, since of 
the two commands, we are more enjoined to be charitable 
than wise. But evident miseries have a natural privilege and 
exemption from all law. Whenever he gives anything, and 
sees them labour in thanking of him, he exacts of them to 
let him alone, and say rather, God be praised ! God be glori- 
fied ! that so the thanks may go the right way, and thither only 
where they are only due. So doth he also before giving make 
them say their prayers first, or the Creed and Ten Command- 
ments, and as he finds them perfect, rewards them the more. 
For other givings are lay and secular ; but this is to give like 
a priest. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE parson's CfiURCH. 

The country Parson hath a special care of his church, 
that all things there be decent, and befitting His name, by 
which it is called. Therefore, first, he takes order that all 
things be in good repair ; as walls plastered, windows glazed, 
floor paved, seats whole, firm, and uniform, especially that 
the pulpit and desk, and communion table and font, be as 
they ought for those great duties that are performed in them. 
Secondly, that the chm'ch be swept and kept clean without 
dust or cobwebs, and at great festivals strewed and stuck 
with boughs, and perfumed with incense. Thirdly, that 
there be fit and proper texts of Scripture everywhere painted, 
and that all the painting be grave and reverend, not with 
light colours or foolish antics. Fourthly, that all the books 
appointed by authority be there, and those not torn or fouled, 
but whole and clean, and well bound ; and that there be a 
fitting and sightly communion cloth of fine linen, with a 
Jiandsome and seemly carpet of good and costly stuff or cloth, 
and all kept sweet and clean, in a strong and decent chest, 
with a chalice and cover, and a stoop or flagon, and a basin 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 201 

for aim and offerings ; besides which, he hath a poor-man's 
box conveniently seated to receive the charity of well-minded 
people, and to lay up treasure for the sick and needy. And 
all this he doth, not as out of necessity, or as putting a holi- 
ness in the things, but as desiring to keep the middle way 
between superstition and slovenliness, and as following the 
Apostle's two great and admirable rules in things of this 
nature, the first whereof is, Let all things be done decently 
and in order : The second, Let all things be done to edifica- 
tion (1 Cor. xiv). For these two rules comprise and include 
the double object of our duty, God and our neighbour ; the 
first being for the honour of God, the second for the benefit 
of our neighbour. So that they excellently score out the 
way, and fully and exactly contain, even in external and in- 
difi"erent things, what course is to be taken, and put them 
to great shame who deny the Scripture to be perfect. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE PARSON IN CIRCUIT. 

The country Parson, upon the afternoons in the week- 
days, takes occasion sometimes to visit in person now one 
quarter of his parish, now another. For there he shall find 
his flock most naturally as they are, wallowing in the midst 
of their afiairs : whereas on Sunday it is easy for them to 
compose themselves to order, which they put on as their 
holiday clothes, and come to church in frame, but commonly 
the next day put off both. When he comes to any house, 
first he blesseth it, and then as he finds the persons of the 
house employed, so he forms his discom-se. Those that he 
finds rehgiously employed, he both commends them much, 
and fiu-thers them when he is gone, in their employment ; 
as if he finds them reading, he furnisheth them with good 
books ; if curing poor people, he supplies them with receipts, 
and instructs them further in that skill, showing them how 
acceptable such works are to God, and wishing them ever to 
do the cures with their own hands, and not to put them over 



202 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

to servants. Those that he finds busy in the works of their 
calUng, he commendeth them also : for it is a good and just 
thing for every one to do their own business. But then he 
admonisheth them of two things ; first, that they dive not too 
deep into worldly afi"airs, plunging themselves over head and 
ears into carking and caring ; but that they so labour, as 
neither to labour anxiously, nor distrustfully, nor profanely. 
Then they labour anxiously, when they overdo it, to the loss 
of their quiet and health: then distrustfully, when they 
doubt God's providence, thinking that their own labour is 
the cause of their thriving, as if it were in their own hands 
to thrive or not to thrive : then they labour profanely, 
when they set themselves to work like brute beasts, never 
raising their thoughts to God, nor sanctifying their labour 
with daily prayer; when on the Lord's day they do un- 
necessary servile work, or in time of divine service on other 
holy days, except in the cases of extreme poverty, and in the 
seasons of seed-time and harvest. Secondly, he adviseth 
them so to labour for wealth and maintenance, as that they 
make not that the end of their labour, but that they may 
have wherewithal to serve God the better, and to do good 
deeds. After these discourses, if they be poor and needy 
whom he thus finds labouring, he gives them somewhat ; and 
opens not only his mouth, but his purse to their relief, that 
so they go on more cheerfully in their vocation, and himself 
be ever the more welcome to them. Those that the Parson 
finds idle or ill-employed, he chides not at first, for that 
were neither civil nor profitable, but always on the close, 
before he departs from them ; yet in this he distinguisheth, 
for if he be a plain countryman, he reproves him plainly 
for they are not sensible of fineness ; if they be of highei 
Duality, they commonly are quick, and sensible, and very 
tender of reproof ; and therefore he lays his discourse so, that 
he comes to the point very leisurely, and oftentimes, as 
Nathan did, in the person of another, making them to re- 
prove themselves. However, one way or other, he ever re- 
proves them, that he may keep himself pure, and not be 
entangled in others' sins. Neither in this doth he forbear. 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 203 

though there be company by: for as when the offence is 
particular, and against me, I am to follov/ our Savioiu-'s 
rule, and to take my brother aside and reprove him ; so 
when the off'ence is public, and against God, I am then 
to follow the apostle's rule (1 Tim. v. 20), and to rebuke 
openly that which is done openly. Besides these occasional 
discom-ses, the Parson questions what order is kept in the 
house, as about prayers, morning and evening on their knees, 
reading of Scripture, catechising, singing of psalms at their 
work on holy days : who can read, who not ; and some- 
times he hears the children read himself, and blesseth, 
encouraging also the servants to learn to read, and offering 
to have them taught on holidays by his servants. If the 
Parson were ashamed of particularizing in these things, he 
were not fit to be a Parson; but he holds the rule, that 
nothing is little in God's service; if it once have the honour 
of that name, it grows great instantly. Wherefore neither 
disdaineth he to enter into the poorest cottage, though he 
even creep into it, and though it smell never so loathsomely. 
For both God is there also, and those for whom God died : 
and so much the rather doth he so, as his access to the poor 
is more comfortable than to the rich ; and in regard of him- 
self, it is more humiliation. These are the Parson's general 
aims in his circuit ; but with these he mingles other dis- 
courses for conversation sake, and to make his higher pur- 
poses slip the more easily. 



CHAPTER Xy. 

THE PARSON COMFORTING. 

The country Parson, when any of his cure is sick, or 
afflicted with loss of friend, or estate, or any ways distressed, 
fails not to afford his best comforts, and rather goes to them 
than sends for the afflicted, though they can and otherwise 
ought to come to him. To this end he hath thoroughly 
digested all the points of consolation, as having continual 
use of them, such as are from God's general providence ex- 



204 Herbert's prose works. 

tended even to lilies ; from his particular, to his Church ; 
from his promises ; from the example of all saints that ever 
were ; from Christ himself, perfecting our redemption no 
other way than by soitow; from the benefit of affliction, 
which softens and works the stubborn heart of man ; from 
the certainty both of deliverance and reward, if we faint not ; 
from the miserable comparison of the moments of griefs here 
with the weight of joys hereafter. Besides this, in his visit- 
ing the sick, or otherwise afflicted, he folio weth the Church's 
counsel, namely, in persuading them to particular confession ; 
labouring to make them understand the great good use of 
this ancient and pious ordinance, and how necessary it is in 
some cases : he also urgeth them to do some pious charitable 
works, as a necessary evidence and fruit of their faith, at 
that time especially : the participation of the holy sacrament, 
how comfortable and sovereign a medicine it is to all sin-sick 
souls; what strength, and joy, and peace it administers 
against all temptations, even to death itself, he plainly and 
generally intimateth to the disaflfected or sick person, that 
so the hunger and thirst after it may come rather from them- 
selves than from his persuasion. 



CHAPTER XYI. 

THE PARSON A FATHER. 

The country Parson is not only a father to his flock, but 
also professeth himself thoroughly of the opinion, carrying it 
about with him as fully as if he had begot his whole parish. 
And of this he makes great use. For by tliis means, 
when any sins, he hateth him not as an officer, but pities 
him as a father : and even in those wrongs which either in 
tithing or otherwise are done to his own person, he considers 
the offender as a child, and forgives, so he may have any 
sign of amendment ; so also, when, after many admonitions, 
any continue to be refractory, yet he gives him not over, but 
is long before he proceed to disinheriting, or perhaps never 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 205 

goes so far ; knowing that some are called at the eleventh 
hour, and therefore he still expects, and waits, lest he should 
determine God's hour of coming ; which as he cannot touch ■ 
ing the last day, so neither touching the intermediate days 
of conversion. 



CHAPTER XYII. 



THE PARSO^^ m JOURXEY. 



The country Parson, when a just occasion calleth him 
out of his parish (which he diligently and strictly weigheth, 
his parish being all his joy and thought), leaveth not his 
ministry behind him ; but is himself wherever he is. There- 
fore those he meets on the way he blesseth audibly, and with 
those he overtakes, or that overtake him, he begins good 
discourses, such as may edify, interposing some short and 
honest refreshments, which may make his other discourses 
more welcome and less tedious. And when he comes to his 
inn, he refuseth not to join, that he may enlarge the glory 
of God to the company he is in, by a due blessmg of God for 
their safe arrival, and saying grace at meat, and at going to 
bed by giving the host notice that he wUl have prayers in the 
hall, wishing him to inform his guests thereof, that if any be 
willuig to partake, they may resort thither. The like he 
doth in the morning, using pleasantly the outlandish proverb, 
That prayers and provender never hinder journey. When he 
comes to any other house, where his kindred or other rela- 
tions give him any authority over the family, if he be to stay 
for a time, he considers diligently the state thereof to God- 
ward, and that in two points : First, What disorders there 
are either in apparel, or diet, or too open a buttery, or read- 
ing vain books, or swearing, or breeding up children to no 
calling, but in idleness, or the like. Secondly, What means 
of piety, whether daily prayers be used, grace, reading of 
Scriptures, and other good books ; how Sundays, holidays, 
and fasting days are kept. And accordingly, as he finds 



206 Herbert's prose works. 

any defect in these, he first considers with himself, what 
kind of remedy fits the temper of the house best, and then 
he faithfully and boldly applieth it, yet seasonably and dis- 
creetly, by taking aside the lord or lady, or master or mistress 
of the house, and showing them clearly, that they respect 
them most who wish them best, and that not a desire to 
meddle with other's afi'airs, but the earnestness to do all the 
good he can, moves him to say thus and thus. 



CHAPTER XVIIL 

THE PARSOIiT IN SENTINEL. 

The comitry Parson, wherever he is, keeps God's watch : 
that is, there is nothing spoken or done in the company 
where he is, but comes under his test and censure : if it be 
well spoken or done, he takes occasion to commend and en- 
large it ; if ill, he presently lays hold of it, lest the poison 
steal into some young and unwary spirits, and possess them 
even before they themselves heed it. But this he doth dis- 
creetly with mollifying and suppling words : This was not so 
well said, as it might have been forborne ; we cannot allow 
this, or else the thing will admit interpretation ; your mean- 
ing is not thus, but thus ; or, so far indeed what you say is 
true, and well said ; but this will not stand : this is called 
keeping God's watch, when the baits which the enemy lays 
in company are discovered and avoided : this is to be on God's 
side, and be true to his party. Besides, if he perceive in 
company any discourse tending to ill, either by the wicked- 
ness or quarrelsomeness thereof, he either prevents it judi- 
ciously, or breaks it off" seasonably by some diversion. Where- 
in a pleasantness of disposition is of great use, men being 
willing to sell the interest and engagement of their discourses 
for no price sooner than that of mirth ; whither the nature 
of man, loving refreshment, gladly betakes itself, even to the 
loss of honour. 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 207 



CHAPTER XIX. 



THE PARSON IN REFERENCE. 



The country Parson is sincere and upright in all his rela- 
tions. And first, he is just to his country ; as when he is 
set at an armour, or horse, he borrows them not to serve the 
turn, nor provides slight and unuseful, but such as are every 
way fitting to do his country true and laudable service when 
occasion requires. To do otherwise is deceit, and therefore 
not for him who is hearty and true in all his ways, as being 
the servant of Him in whom there was no guile. Likewise 
in any other country duty he considers what is the end of 
any command, and then he suits things faithfully according 
to that end. Secondly, he carries himself very respectfully 
as to all the Fathers of the Church, so especially to his 
diocesan, honouring him both in word and behaviour, and 
resorting unto him in any difficulty, either in his studies or 
in his parish. He observes visitations, and being there, 
makes due use of them as of clergy councils for the benefit 
of the diocese. And, therefore, before he comes, having 
observed some defects in the ministry, he then, either in 
sermon, if he preach, or, at some other time of the day, pro- 
pounds among his brethren what were fitting to be done. 
Thirdly, he keeps good correspondence with all the neigh- 
bouring pastors round about him, performing for them any 
ministerial office which is not to the prejudice of his own 
parish. Likewise, he welcomes to his house any minister, 
how poor or mean soever, with as joyful a countenance as if 
he were to entertain some great lord. Fourthly, he fulfils 
the duty and debt of neighboiurhood to all the parishes which 
are near him. For the apostle's rule (Philip, iv.) being ad- 
mirable and large, that "we should do whatsoever things 
are honest, or just, or pure, or lovely, or of good report, if 
there be any virtue, or any praise;" and neighboiu-hood 
being ever reputed, even among the heathen, as an obliga- 
tion to do good, rather than to those that are further, where 



208 Herbert's prose works, 

tMngs are otherwise equal, therefore he satisfies this duty 
also. Especially if God have sent any calamity either by 
fire or famine to any neighbouring parish, then he expects 
no brief, but taking his parish together the next Sunday or 
holiday, and exposing to them the uncertainty of human 
afiairs, none knowing whose turn may be next ; and then, 
when he hath afi"righted them with this, exposing the obli- 
gation of charity and neighbourhood, he first gives himself 
' liberally, and then incites them to give ; making together a 
sum either to be sent, or, which were more comfortable, all 
together choosing some fit day to carry it themselves, and 
cheer the afflicted. So, if any neighbouring village be over- 
burdened with poor, and his own less charged, he finds some 
way of relieving it, and reducing the manna and bread of 
charity to some equality, representing to his people that 
the blessing of God to them ought to make them the more 
charitable, and not the less, lest he cast their neighbom's' 
poverty on them also. 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE PARSON IN GOD's STEAP. 

The country Parson is in God's stead to his parish, and 
dischargeth God what he can of his promises, wherefore 
there is nothing done, either well or ill, whereof he is not 
the rewarder or puiusher. If he chance to find any reading 
in another's Bible, he provides him one of his own. If he 
find another giving a poor man a penny, he gives him a 
tester* for it, if the giver be fit to receive it ; or if he be of 
a condition above such gifts, he sends him a good book, or 
easeth him in his tithes, telling him, when he hath forgotten 
it, This I do, because at such and such a time you were 
charitable. This is in some sort a discharging of God ; as 
concerning this life, who hath promised that godliness shall 
be gainful : but in the other, God is his own immediate pay- 

* Sixpence. 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE, 2<!9 

master, rewarding all good deeds to their full proportion. 
" The Parson's punishing of sin and vice is rather by with- 
drawing his bounty and courtesy from the parties offending, 
or by private or public reproof, as the case requires, than by 
causing them to be presented, or otherwise complained of. 
And yet, as the malice of the person, or heinousness of the 
crime may be, he is careful to see condign punishment in- 
flicted, and, with truly godly zeal, without hatred to the 
person, hungreth and thirsteth after righteous punishment 
of imrighteousness. Thus, both in rewarding virtue and in 
punishing vice, the Parson endeavoureth to be in God's stead, 
knowing that country people are drawn or led by ffense, more 
than by faith ; by present rewards or punishments, more than 
by future." 



CHAPTER XXL 

THE parson's CATEOHISINa. 

The country Parson values catechising highly : For there 
being three points of his duty ; the one, to infuse a compe- 
tent knowledge of salvation in every one of his flock ; the 
other, to multiply and build up this knowledge to a spiritual 
temple ; the thurd, to inflame this knowledge, to press, and 
drive it to practice, turning it to reformation of life, by pithy 
and lively exhortations ; catechising is the first point, and 
but by catechising, the other cannot be attained. Besides, 
whereas in sermons there is a kind of state, in catechising 
there is an humbleness very suitable to Christian regenera- 
tion ; which exceedingly delights him as by way of exercise 
upon himself, and by way of preaching to himself, for the 
advancing of his own mortification : For in preaching to 
others, he forgets not himself, but is first a sermon to him- 
self, and then to others ; growing with the growth of his 
parish. He useth and preferreth the ordinary Church Cate- 
chism, partly for obedience to authority, partly for uniformity 
sake, that the same common truths may be everywhere pro- 

o 



210 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

fessed, especially since many remove from parish to parish, 
who, like Christian soldiers, are to give the word, and to 
satisfy the congregation by their catholic answers. He exacts 
of all the doctrine of the Catechism ; of the younger sort, 
the very words ; of the elder, the substance. Those he cate- 
chiseth publicly, these privately, giving age honour, ac- 
cording to the apostle's rule, 1 Tim, v. 1. He requires all 
to be present at catechising : First, for the authority of the 
work ; secondly, that parents and masters, as they hear the 
answers prove, may, when they come home, either commend 
or reprove, either reward or punish. Thirdly, that those of 
the elder sort, who are not well grounded, may then, by 
an honourable way, take occasion to be better instructed. 
Fourthly, that those who are well grounded in the know- 
ledge of religion may examine their grounds, renew their 
vows, and by occasion of both, enlarge their meditations. 
When once all have learned the words of the Catechism, he 
thinks it the most useful way that a pastor can take, to go 
over the same, but in other words : for many say the Cate- 
chism by rote, as parrots, without ever piercing into the 
sense of it. In this course the order of the Catechism would 
be kept, but the rest varied : as thus, in the Creed : How 
came this world to be as it is ? Was it made, or came it by 
chance ? Who made it ? Did you see God make it ? Then 
are there some things to be believed that are not seen ? Is 
this the nature of belief? Is not Christianity full of such 
things, as are not to be seen, but believed ? You said, God 
made the world ; Who is God? And so forward, requiring 
answers to all these, and helping and cherishing the answerer, 
by making the questions very plain with comparisons, and 
making much even of a word of truth from him. This order 
being used to one, would be a little varied to another. And 
this is an admirable way of teaching, wherein the catechised 
will at length find delight, and by which the catecliiser, if 
he once get the skill of it, will draw out of ignorant and silly 
souls even the dark and deep points of religion. Socrates 
did thus in philosophy, who held that the seeds of all truth 
lay in every body, and accordingly, by questions well ordered. 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 211 

he found philosophy in silly tradesmen. That position will 
not hold in Christianity, because it contains things above 
nature : but after that the Catechism is once learned, that 
which nature is towards philosophy, the Catechism is to- 
wards divmity. To this purpose, some dialogues in Plato were 
worth the reading, where the singular dexterity of Socrates 
in this kind may be observed and imitated. Yet the skill 
consists but in these three points : First, an aim and mark of 
the whole discourse, whither to drive the answerer, which 
the questionist must have in his mind before any question 
be propounded, upon which and to which the questions are 
to be chained. Secondly, a most plain and easy framing 
the question, even containing, in virtue, the answer also, 
especially to the more ignorant. Thirdly, when the answerer 
sticks, an illustrating the thing by something else which he 
knows, making what he knows to serve him in that which 
he knows not : as, when the parson once demanded, after 
other questions about man's misery ; since man is so miser- 
able, what is to be done ? And the answerer could not tell ; 
he asked him again, what he would do if he were in a ditch? 
This familiar illustration made the answer so plain, that he 
was even ashamed of his ignorance ; for he could not but 
say, he would haste out of it as fast as he could. Then he 
proceeded to ask, whether he could get out of the ditch 
alone, or whether he needed a helper, and who was that 
helper. This is the skill, and doubtless the Holy Scripture 
intends thus much, when it condescends to the naming of a 
plough, a hatchet, a bushel, leaven, boys piping and dancing; 
showing that things of ordinary use are not only to serve in 
the way of drudgery, but to be washed and cleansed, and 
serve for lights even of heavenly truths. This is the practice 
which the Parson so much commends to all his fellow- 
labourers ; the secret of whose good consists in this, that at 
sermons and prayers men may sleep or wander, but when 
one is asked a question, he must discover what he is. This 
practice exceeds even sermons in teaching : But there being 
two things in sermons, the one informing, the other in- 
flaming ; as sermons come short of questions in the one, so 



212 Herbert's prose works. 

they far exceed them in the other. For questions cannot 
inflame or ravish ; that must be done by a set, and laboured^ 
and continued speech. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

THE PARSON IN SACRAMENTS. 

The country Parson being to administer the Sacraments, 
is at a stand with himself, how or what behaviour to assume 
for so holy things. Especially at communion times he is in 
a great confusion, as being not only to receive God, but to 
break and administer him. Neither finds he any issue in 
this, but to throw himself down at the throne of grace, say- 
ing, "Lord, thou knowest what thou didst, when thou 
appointedst it to be done thus ; therefore do thou fulfil what 
thou didst appoint ; for thou art not only the feast, but the 
way to it." At baptism, being himself in white, he requires 
the presence of all, and baptizeth not willingly, but on Sun- 
days, or great days. He admits no vain or idle names, but 
such as are usual and accustomed. He says that prayer with 
great devotion, where God is thanked for calling us to the 
knowledge of his grace, baptism being a blessing that the 
world hath not the like. He wUlingly and cheerfully crosseth 
the child, and thinketh the ceremony not only innocent but 
reverend. He instructeth the godfathers and godmothers, 
that it is no complimental or light thing to sustain that place, 
but a great honour, and no less burden, as being done both in 
the presence of God and his saints, and by way of undertaking 
for a Christian soul. He adviseth all to call to mind their bap- 
tism often ; for if wise men have thought it the best way of 
preserving a State to reduce it to its principles by which it 
grew great ; certainly it is the safest course for Cli/istians 
also to meditate on their baptism often (being the first step 
into their great and glorious calling) and upon what terms and 
with what vows they were baptized. At the times of the holy 
communion, he first takes order with the churchwardens, 
that the elements be of the best, not cheap, or coarse, much 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 213 



less -ill-tasted or unwholesome. Secondly, he considers and 
looks into the ignorance or carelessness of his flock, and accord- 
ingly applies himself with catechisings and lively exhorta- 
tions, not on the Sunday of the communion only (for then it 
is too late), but the Sunday or Sundays before the communion, 
or on the eves of all those days. If there be any who having 
not received yet, is to enter into this great work, he takes 
the more pains with them, that he may lay the foundation 
of future blessings. The time of every one's first receiving is 
not so much by years as by understanding ; particularly the 
rule may be this : When any one can distinguish the sacra- 
mental from common bread, knowing the institution, and the 
difference, he ought to receive, of what age soever. Children 
and youths are usually deferred too long, under pretence of 
devotion to the sacrament, but it is for want of instruction ; 
their understandings being ripe enough for ill things, and 
why not then for better ? But parents and masters should 
make haste in this, as to a great purchase for their children 
and servants ; which while they defer, both sides suffer ; the 
one, in wanting many excitings of grace, the other, in being 
worse served and obeyed. The saying of the Catechism is 
necessary, but not enough ; because to answer in form may 
still admit ignorance : but the questions must be propounded 
loosely and wildly, and then the answer will discover what he 
is. Thirdly, for the manner of receiving, as the Parson useth 
aU reverence himself, so he administers to none but to the 
reverent. The feast indeed requires sitting, because it is a 
feast; but man's unpreparedness asks kneeling. He that 
comes to the sacrament, hath the confidence of a guest, and 
he that kneels, confesseth himself an unworthy one, and 
therefore differs from other feasters ; but he that sits or lies, 
puts up to an apostle : Contentiousness in a feast of charity 
is more scandal than any posture. Fourthly, touching the 
frequency of the communion, the Parson celebrates it, if not 
duly once a month, yet at least five or six times in the year ; 
as at Easter, Christmas, Whitsuntide, before and after har- 
vest, and the beginning of Lent. And this he doth, not only 
for the benefit of the work, but also for the discharge of the 



214 Herbert's prose works. 

churchwardens, who being to present all that receive not 
thrice a year; if there be but three communions, neither 
can all the people so order their affairs as to receive just at 
those times, uor the churchwardens so well take notice who 
receive thrice, and who not. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE parson's completeness. 

The country Parson desires to be all to his parish, and 
not only a pastor, but a lawyer also, and a physician. 
Therefore he endures not that any of his flock should go to 
law ; but in any controversy, that they should resort to him 
as their judge. To this end, he hath gotten to himself some 
insight in things ordinarily incident and controverted, by 
experience, and by reading some initiatory treatises in the 
law, with Dalton's Justice of Peace, and the Abridgments 
of the Statutes, as also by discourse with men of that pro- 
fession, whom he hath ever some cases to ask, when he meets 
with them ; holding that rule, that to put men to discourse 
of that wherein they are most eminent is the most gainful 
way of conversation. Yet whenever any controversy is 
brought to him, he never decides it alone ; but sends for 
three or four of the ablest of the parish to hear the cause 
with him, whom he makes to deliver their opinion first ; out 
of which he gathers, in case he be ignorant himself, what to 
hold ; and so the thing passeth with more authority, and 
less envy ; in judging he follows that which is altogether 
right : so that if the poorest man of the parish detain but a 
pin unjustly from the richest, he absolutely restores it as a 
judge ; but when he hath so done, then he assumes the 
Parson, and exhorts to charity. Nevertheless, there may 
happen sometimes some cases, wherein he chooseth to permit 
his parishioners rather to make use of the law than himself : 
as in cases of an obscure and dark natm-e, not easily deter- 



A PRIEST TO THE TE3IPLE. 215 

minable by lawyers themselves ; or in cases of high conse- 
quence, as establishing of inheritances : or lastly, when the 
persons are of a contentious disposition, and cannot be gained, 
but that they still fall from all compromises that have been 
made. But then he shows them how to go to Jaw, even as 
brethren, and not as enemies, neither avoiding therefore one 
another's company, much less defaming one another. Now, 
as the Parson is in law, so is he in sickness also : If there 
be any of his flock sick, he is their physician, or at least his 
wife, of whom instead of the qualities of the world, he asks 
no other, but to have the skill of healing a wound, or helping 
the sick. But if neither himself nor his wife have the skill, 
and his means serve, he keeps some young practitioner in 
his house for the benefit of his parish, whom yet he ever ex- 
horts not to exceed his bounds, but in difiicult cases to call 
in help. If all fail, then he keeps good correspondence with 
some neighbour physician, and entertains him for the cure 
of his parish. Yet it is easy for any scholar to attain to such 
a measure of physic as may be of much use to him, both for 
himself and others. This is done by seeing one anatomy, 
reading one book of physic, having one herbal by him. And 
let Femehus be the physic author, for he writes briefly, 
neatly, and judiciously : especially let his method of physic 
be dHigently perused, as being the practical part, and of 
most use. Now both the reading of him and the knowing of 
herbs may be done at such times as they may be a help and 
a recreation to more divine studies, nature serving grace both 
in comfort of diversion, and the benefit of application, when 
need requires : as also, by way of illustration, even as our^ 
Saviour made plants and seeds to teach the people : for he 
was the true householder, who bringeth out of his treasure 
things new and old ; the old thmgs of philosophy and the 
new of grace, and maketh the one serve the other. And I 
conceive our Saviour did this for three reasons : First, that 
by familiar things he might make his doctrine sUp the more 
easily into the hearts even of the meanest. Secondly, that 
labouring people (whom he chiefly considered) might have 
everywhere monuments of his doctrine, remembering in 



216 Herbert's prose works. 

gardens his mustard-seed and lilies ; in the field his seed- 
corn and tares ; and so not be drowned altogether in the 
works of their vocation, but sometimes lift up their minds to 
better things, even in the midst of their pains. Thirdly, 
that he might set a copy for Parsons. In the knowledge of 
simples, wherein the manifold wisdom of God is wonderfully 
to be seen, one thing should be carefully observed ; which is 
to know what herbs may be used instead of drugs of the 
same natiu'e, and to make the garden the shop : for home- 
bred medicines are both more easy for the Parson's purse, 
and more familiar for all men's bodies. So, where the 
apothecaiy useth either for loosing, rhubarb ; or for binding, 
bolearmena, the Parson useth damask or white roses for the 
one, and plaintain, shepherd's pm-se, knot grass, for the 
other, and that with better success. As for spices, he doth 
not only prefer *home-bred things before them, but condemns 
them for vanities, and so shuts them out of his family, 
esteeming that there is no spice comparable for herbs, to 
rosemary, thyme, savory, mints ; and for seeds, to fennel 
and caiTaway seeds. Accordmgly for salves, his wife seeks 
not the city, but prefers her garden and fields, before all 
outlandish gums. And surely hyssop, valerian, mercury, 
adder's tongue, verrow, melilot, and St John's-wort, made 
into a salve ; and elder, camomile, mallows, comphrey and 
smallage, made into a poultice, have done great and rare 
cm-es. In cm-ing of any, the Parson and his family use to 
premise prayers, for this is to cure like a Parson, and this 
raiseth the action from the shop to the chmxh. But though 
the Parson sets forward all charitable deeds, yet he looks not 
in this point of curing beyond his own parish, except the 
person be so poor that he is not able to reward the physician : 
for as he is charitable, so he is just also. Now it is a justice 
and debt to the commonwealth he lives in, not to encroach 
on others' professions, but to hve on his own. And justice 
is the gi'ound of charity. 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 217 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE parson's ARGTJING. 

The country Parson, if there be any of his parish that 
hold strange doctrines, useth all possible diligence to reduce 
them to the common faith. The first means he useth is 
prayer, beseeching the Father of lights to open their eyes, 
and to give him power so to fit his discourse to them, that it 
may efiectually pierce their hearts and convert them. The 
second means is a very loving and sweet usage of them, both 
in going to and sending for them often, and in finding out 
courtesies to place on them ; as in their tithes or otherwise. 
The third means is the observation, what is the main founda- 
tion and pillar of their cause, whereon they rely ; as if he be 
a Papist, the church is the hinge he turns on ; if a schismatic, 
scandal. Wherefore the Parson hath diligently examined 
these two with himself, as " What the Church is ; how it 
began ; how it proceeded ; whether it be a rule to itself ; 
whether it hath a rule ; whether having a rule, it ought not 
to be guided by it ; whether any rule in the world be obscure ; 
and how then should the best be so, at least in fundamental 
things ; the obscurity in some points being the exercise of 
the Church, the light in the foundations being the guide ; 
the Church needing both an evidence and an exercise. So 
for scandal : What scandal is ; when given or taken ; whether 
there being two precepts, one of obeying authority, the other 
of not giving scandal, that ought not to be preferred, espe- 
cially since in disobeying there is scandal also : whether 
things once indifferent, being made by the precept of autho- 
rity more than indifferent, it be in our power to omit or re- 
fuse them." These and the like points he hath accurately 
digested, having ever besides two great helps and powerful 
persuaders on his side ; the one a strict religious life ; the 
other an humble and ingenuous search of truth, being un- 
moved in arguing, and void of all contentiousness : which are 
two great lights able to dazzle the eyes of the misled, while 



218 Herbert's prose works. 

they consider that God cannot be wanting to them in doctrine, 
to whom he is so gracious in life. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THE PARSON PUNISHINa. 

Whensoever the country Parson proceeds so far as to 
call in authority, and to do such things of legal opposition 
either in the presenting or punishing of any, as the vulgar 
ever construes for signs of ill-will : he forbears not in any 
wise to use the delinquent as before, in his behaviour and 
carriage towards him, not avoiding his company, or doing 
anything of averseness, save in the very act of punishment : 
neither doth he esteem him for an enemy, but as a brother 
still, except some small and temporary estranging may 
corroborate the punishment to a better subduing and hum- 
bling of the delinquent ; which, if it happily take effect, he 
then comes on the faster, and makes so much the more of 
him, as before he alienated himself; doubling his regards, 
and showing, by all means, that the delinquent's return is 
to his advantage. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE parson's eye. 

The country Parson, at spare times from action, standing 
on a hill, and considering his flock, discovers two sorts of 
vices, and two sorts of vicious persons. There are some vices 
whose natures are always clear and evident, as adultery, mur- 
der, hatred, lying, &c. There are other vices, whose natures, 
at least in the beginning, are dark and obscure ; as covetous- 
ness and gluttony. So likewise there are some persons, who 
abstain not even from known sins; there are others who, 
when they know a sin evidently, they commit it not. It is 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 219 

true, indeed, they are long a knowing it, being partial to 
themselves, and witty to others who shall reprove them for 
it. A man maybe both covetous and intemperate, and yet hear 
sermons against both, and himseK condemn both in good 
earnest : and the reason hereof is, because the natures of 
these vices being not evidently discussed or known commonly, 
the beginnings of them are not easily observable : and the 
beginnings of them are not observed, because of the sudden 
passing from that which was just now lawful, to that which 
is presently unlawful, even in one continued action. So a 
man dining, eats at first lawfully ; but proceeding on, comes 
to do unlawfully, even before he is aware ; not knowing the 
bounds of the action, nor when his eating begins to be unlaw- 
ful. So a man storing up money for his necessary provisions, 
both in present for his family and in future for his children, 
hardly perceives when his storing becomes unlawful : yet is 
there a period for his storing, and a point, or centre, when 
his storing, which was even now good, passeth from good to 
bad. Wherefore the Parson being true to his business, hath 
exactly sifted the definitions of all virtues and vices ; espe- 
cially canvassing those whose natures are most stealing, and 
beginnings uncertain. Particularly, concerning these two 
vices, not because they are all that are of this dark and 
creeping disposition, but for example sake, and because they 
are most common, he thus thinks : First for Covetousness, 
he lays this ground : Whosoever, when a just occasion calls, 
either spends not at all, or not in some proportion to God's 
blessing upon him, is covetous. The reason of the ground 
is manifest, because wealth is given to that end, to supply 
our occasions. Now, if I do not give every thing its end, I 
abuse the creature ; I am false to my reason, which should 
guide me ; I off"end the supreme Judge, in perverting that order 
which he hath set both to things and to reason. The appli- 
cation of the ground would be infinite ; but, in brief, a poor 
man is an occasion, my country is an occasion, my friend is 
an occasion, my table is an occasion, my apparel is an occa- 
sion ; if in all these, and those more which concern me, I 
either do nothing, or pinch and scrape, and squeeze blood 



220 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

indecently to the station wherein God hath placed me, I am 
covetous. More particularly, and to give one instance for 
all, if Grod hath given me servants, and I either provide too 
little for them, or that which is unwholesome, being some- 
times baned meat, sometimes too salt, and so not competent 
nourishment, I am covetous. I bring this example, because 
men usually think, that servants for their money are as other 
things that they buy, even as a piece of wood, which they 
may cut, or hack, or throw into the fire ; and so they pay 
them their wages, all is well. Nay, to descend yet more 
particularly, if a man have wherewithal to buy a spade, and 
yet he chooseth rather to use liis neighbour's, and wear out 
that, he is covetous. Nevertheless, few bring covetousness 
thus low, or consider it so narrowly, which yet ought to be 
done, since " there is a justice in the least tilings, and for 
the least there shall be a judgment." Country people are 
full of these petty injustices, being cimning to make use of 
another and spare themselves : And scholars ought to be 
diligent in the observation of these, and driving of their 
general school-rules ever to the smallest actions of life ; which 
while they dwell in their books, they will never find ; but 
being seated in the country, and doing their duty faithfully, 
they will soon discover : especially if they carry their eyes 
ever open, and fix them on their charge, and not on their 
preferment. Secondly, for gluttony, the Parson lays this 
ground : he that either for quantity eats more than liis 
health or employments will bear, or for quality is lickerish 
after dainties, is a glutton ; as he that eats more than his 
estate will bear, is a prodigal : and he that eats ofiensively 
to the company, either in his order, or length of eating, is 
scandalous and uncharitable. These three rules generally 
comprehend the faults of " eating, and the truth of them 
needs no proof : so that men must eat, neither to the dis- 
turbance of their health nor of their affairs (which, being 
overburdened or studying dainties too much, they cannot 
well dispatch), nor of their estate, nor of their brethren." 
One act in these things is bad, but it is the custom and habit 
that names a glutton. Many think they are more at liberty 



A PEIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 221 

than they are, as if they were masters of their health, and 
so they will stand to the pain, all is weU. But to eat to 
one's hurt comprehends, besides the hurt, an act against 
reason, because it is mmatural to hurt oneself ; and this they 
are not masters of. Yet of hurtful things, I am more bound 
to abstain from those which by my own experience I have 
found hurtful, than from those which by a common tradition 
and vulgar knowledge are reputed to be so. That which is 
said of hurtful meats extends to hurtful drinks also. As for 
the quantity, touching our employments, none must eat so 
as to disable themselves from a fit discharging either of 
divine duties, or duties of their calling. So that if after 
dinner they are not fit (or unwieldy) either to pray, or work, 
they are gluttons. Not that all must presently work after 
dinner, for they rather must not work (especially students, 
and those that are weakly) ; but that they must rise so, as 
that it is not meat or drink that hinders them from working. 
To guide them in this, there are three rules : First, the cus- 
tom and knowledge of their own body, and what it can well 
digest : the second, the feeling of themselves in time of eat- 
ing, which, because it is deceitful (for one thinks in eating, 
that he can eat more than afterwards he finds true) : the 
third is the observation with what appetite they sit down. 
This last rule, joined with the first, never fails. For know- 
ing what one usually can well digest, and feeling when I go 
to meat in what disposition I am, either hungry or not, accord- 
ing as I feel myself, either I take my wonted proportion or 
diminish of it. Yet physicians bid those that would live in 
health not keep a uniform diet, but to feed variously, now 
more, now less : and Gerson, a spiritual man, wisheth all to 
incline rather to too much than to too little ; his reason is, 
because diseases of exinanition are more dangerous than dis- 
eases of repletion. But the Parson distinguisheth according 
to his double aim, either of abstinence a moral virtue, or 
mortification a divine. When he deals with any that is 
heavy and carnal, he gives him those freer rules ; but when 
he meets with a refined and heavenly disposition, he carries 
them higher, even sometimes to a forgetting of themselves, 



222 Herbert's prose works. 

knowing that there is one who, when they forget, remem- 
bers for them ; as when the people hungered and thirsted 
after our Saviour's doctrine, and tarried so long at it, that 
they would have fainted had they returned empty, he suf- 
fered it not ; but rather made food miraculously, than suf- 
fered so good desires to miscarry. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE PARSON IN MIRTH. 

The country Parson is generally sad, because he know8 
nothing but the Cross of Christ, his mind being defixed on it, 
with those nails wherewith his Master was : or if he have 
any leisure to look oflF from thence, he meets continually 
with two most sad spectales, sin and misery ; God dishonoured 
every day, and man afflicted. Nevertheless, he sometimes 
refresheth himself, as knowing that nature will not bear 
everlasting droopings, and that pleasantness of disposition is 
a great key to do good ; not only because all men shun the 
company of perpetual severity, but also for that when they 
are in company, instructions seasoned with pleasantness both 
enter sooner and root deeper. Wherefore he condescends to 
hiunan frailties both in himself and others ; and intermingles 
some mirth in his discourses occasionally, according to the 
pulse of the hearer. 



CHAPTER XXYIII. 

THE PARSON IN CONTEMPT. 

The coimtry Parson knows well, that both for the general 
ignominy which is cast upon the profession, and much more 
for those rules which, out of his choicest judgment, he hath 
resolved to observe, and which are described in this book, he 
must be despised ; because this has been the portion of God 
his Master, and of God's saints his brethren, and tliis is fore- 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 223 

told, that it shall be so, until things be no more. Neverthe- 
less, according to the apostle's rule, he endeavours that none 
shall despise him ; especially in his own parish, he suffers it 
not to his utmost power ; for that, where contempt is, there 
is no room for instruction. This he procures, first, by his 
holy and unblameable life ; which canies a reverence with 
it, even above contempt. Secondly, by a coiuteous carriage 
and winning behaviour : he that will be respected, must re- 
spect; doing kindnesses, but receiving none; at least of 
those who are apt to despise : for this argues a height and 
eminency of mind, which is not easily despised, except it 
degenerate to pride. Thirdly, by a bold and impartial re- 
proof, even of the best in the parish, when occasion requires : 
for this may produce hatred in those that are reproved, but 
never contempt either in them or others. Lastly, if the con- 
tempt shall proceed so far as to do anything punishable by 
law, as contempt is apt to do, if it be not thwarted, the 
Parson haviug a due respect both to the person and to the 
cause, referreth the whole matter to the examination and 
punishment of those which are in authority ; that so the 
sentence lighting upon one, the example may reach to all. 
But if the contempt be not punishable by law, or being so, 
the Parson think it in his discretion either unfit or bootless 
to contend, then when any despises him he takes it either in 
an humble way, saying nothing at all, or else in a slighting 
way, showing that reproaches touch him no more than a 
stone thrown against heaven, where he is, and lives ; or in a 
sad way, grieved at his own and others' sins, which continu- 
ally break God's laws, and dishonour him with those mouths 
which he continually fills and feeds : or else, in a doctrinal 
way, saying to the contemner, Alas, why do you thus ? you 
hurt yourself, not me ; he that throws a stone at another, 
hits himself ; and so, between gentle reasoning and pitying, 
he overcomes the evil : or lastly, in a triumphant way, being 
glad and joyful that he is made conformable to his Master ; 
and being in the world as he was, hath this undoubted pledge 
of his salvation. These are the five shields wherewith the 
godly receive the darts of the wicked ; leaving anger, and 



224 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

retorting, and revenge, to the children of the world, whom 
another's ill mastereth, and leadeth captive without any re- 
sistance, even in resistance to the same destruction. For 
while they resist the person that reviles, they resist not the 
evil which takes hold of them, and is far the worst enemy. 



CHAPTER XXIX 

THE PARSON WITH HIS CHURCHWARDENS. 

The country Parson doth often, both puhlickly and pri- 
vately, instruct his churchwardens what a great charge lies 
upon them, and that indeed the whole order and discipline 
of the parish is put into their hands. If himself reform any 
thing, it is out of the overflowing of his conscience, whereas 
they are to do it by command and by oath. Neither hath 
the place its dignity from the ecclesiastical laws only, since 
even by the common statute-law they are taken for a 
kind of corporation, as being persons enabled by that name 
to take moveable goods or chattels, and to sue and to be sued 
at law concerning such goods, for the use and profit of their 
parish : and by the same law they are to levy penalties for 
negligence in resorting to church, or for disorderly carriage 
in time of divine service. Wherefore the Parson suflFers not 
the place to be vilified or debased, by being cast on the lower 
rank of people ; but invites and urges the best unto it, 
showing that they do not lose or go less, but gain by it ; it 
being the greatest honour of this world to do God and his 
chosen service ; or as David says, to be even a doorkeeper 
in the house of Glod. Now the canons bemg the church- 
warden's rule, the Parson adviseth them to read or hear them 
often, as also the visitation articles, which are grounded upon 
the canons, that so they may know their duty and keep their 
oath the better ; in whicli regard, considering the great con- 
sequence of their place, and more of their oath, he wisheth 
them by no means to spare any, though never so great ; but 
if after gentle and neighbourly admonitions, they stiU persist 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 



ill ill, to present them ; yea thougli they be tenants, or other- 
wise engaged to the delinquent : for their obligation to God 
and their own soul is above any temporal tie. Do well and 
right, and let the world sink. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

THE parson's CONSIDERATION OF PROVIDENCE. 

The country Parson, considering the great aptness country 
people have to think that all things come by kind of natu- 
ral coiu'se, and that if they sow and soil their grounds, they 
must have corn, if they keep and fodder well their cattle 
they must have milk and calves, labours to reduce them to 
see God's hand in all things, and to beheve that things are 
not set in such an inevitable order, but that God often 
changeth it according as he sees tit, either for reward or pun- 
ishment. To this end he represents to his flock that God 
hath and exerciseth a threefold power in everything which 
concerns man. The first is a sustaining power ; the second 
a governing power ; the third a spiritual power. By his 
sustaining power he preserves and actuates everything in 
his being ; so that corn doth " not grow by any other virtue 
than by that which he continually supplies, as the corn needs 
it ; without which supply the corn would instantly dry up, 
as a river would if the fountain were stopped. And it is ob- 
servable that if anything could presume of an inevitable 
com'se and constancy in their operations, certainly it should 
be either the sun m heaven or the fire on earth, by reason of 
their fierce, strong, and violent natures; 'yet when God 
pleased the sun stood still, the fire burned not. By God's 
governing power he preserves and orders the references of 
things one to the other, so that though the corn do grow and 
be preserved in that act by his sustaining power, yet if he 
suit not other things to the groAvth, as seasons and weather, 
and other accidents, by his governing power, the fairest 
harvests come to nothing. And it is observable that God 



226 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

delights to have men feel and acknowledge and reverence his 
power, and therefore he often overturns things when they 
are thought past danger ; that is his time of interposing : as 
when a merchant hath a ship come home after many a storm, 
which it hath escaped, he destroys it sometimes in the very 
haven ; or if the goods be housed, a fire hath broken forth, 
and suddenly consumed them. Now this he doth that men 
should perpetuate and not break oif their acts of dependence, 
how fair soever the opportunities present themselves. So 
that if a farmer should depend upon God all the year, and 
being ready to put hand to sickle, shall then secure himself, 
and think all cock sure ; then God sends such weather as 
lays the corn and destroys it : or if he depend on God further, 
even till he inbarn his corn, and then think all sure, God 
sends a fire and consumes all that he hath : for that he ought 
not to break off, but to continue his dependence on God, not 
only before the corn is inned, but after also ; and, indeed, to 
depend and fear continually. The third power is spiritual, 
by which God turns all outward blessings to inward advan- 
tages. So that if a farmer hath both a fair harvest, and that 
also well inned and inbafned, and continuing safe there ; yet 
if God give him not the grace to use and utter this well, all 
his advantages are to his loss. Better were his com burnt 
than not spiritually improved. And it is observable in this, 
how God's goodness strives with man's refractoriness. Man 
would sit down at this world ; God bids him sell it, and pur- 
chase a better. Just as a father who hath in his hand an 
apple, and a piece of gold under it ; the child comes, and 
with pulling, gets the apple out of his father's hand : his 
father bids him throw it away, and he will give him the gold 
for it, which the child uttei'ly refusing, eats it, and is troubled 
with worms : so is the carnal and wilful man with the worm 
of the grave in this world, and the wonu of conscience in the 
next 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 227 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE PARSON IN LIBERTY. 

The country Parson, observing the manifold wiles of Satan 
who plays his part sometimes in drawing God's servants 
from him, sometimes in perplexing them in the service of 
God), stands fast in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made 
us free. This liberty he compasseth by one distinction, and 
that is, of what is necessary, and what is additionary. As, 
for example, it is necessary that all Christians should pray 
twice a day, every day of the Aveek, and four times on Sun- 
day, if they be well. This is so necessary and essential to a 
Christian, that he cannot without this maintain himself in 
a Christian state. Besides this, the godly have ever added 
some hours of prayer, as at nine, or at three, or at midnight, 
or as they think fit and see cause, or rather as God's Spirit 
leads them. But these prayers are not necessary, but addi- 
tionary. Now it so happens, that the godly petitioner, upon 
some emergent interruption in the day, or by oversleeping 
himself at night, omits his additionary prayer. Upon this 
his mind begins to be perplexed and troubled, and Satan, 
who knows the exigent, blows the fire, endeavouring to dis- 
order the Christian, and put him out of his station, and to 
enlarge the perplexity, until it spread and taint his other 
duties of piety, which none can perform so well in trouble as 
in calmness. Here the Parson interposeth with his distinc- 
tion, and shews the perplexed Christian, that this prayer 
being additionary, not necessary, taken in, not commanded, 
the omission thereof upon just occasion ought by no means 
to trouble him. God knows the occasion as well as he, and 
he is a gracious Father, who more accepts a common course 
of devotion than dislikes an occasional interruption. And of 
this he is so to assure himself as to admit no scruple, but to 
go on as cheerfully as if he had not been interrupted. By 
this it is evident that the distinction is of singular use and 
comfort, especially to pious minds, which are ever tender 



228 Herbert's prose works. 

and delicate. But here there are two cautions to be added. 
First, that this interruption proceed not out of slackness or 
coldness, which will appear if the pious soul foresee and pre- 
vent such interruptions, what he may before they come, and 
when for all that they do come, he be a little affected there- 
with, but not afflicted or troubled ; if he resent it to a mis- 
like, but not a grief. Secondly, that this interruption pro- 
ceed not out of shame. As, for example, a godly man, not 
out of superstition but of reverence to God's house, resolves 
whenever he enters into a church to kneel down and pray, 
either blessing God that he will be pleased to dwell among 
men, or beseeching him, that whenever he repairs to his 
house, he may behave himself so as befits so great a presence; 
and this briefly. But it happens that near the place where 
he is to pray, he spies some scofiing ruffian, who is likely to 
deride him for his pains : if he now shall, either for fear or 
shame, break his custom, he shall do passing ill ; so much 
the rather ought he to proceed, as that by this he may take 
into his prayer humiliation also. On the other side, if I am 
to visit the sick in haste, and my nearest way lie tlirough 
the church, I will not doubt to go without staying to pray 
there (but only, as I pass, in my heart), because this kind of 
prayer is additionary, not necessary, and the other duty over- 
weighs it : so that if any scruple arise, I will throw it away, 
and be most confident- that God is not displeased. This dis- 
tinction may run through all Christian duties, and it is a 
great stay and settling to religious souls. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE parson's surveys. 

The country Parson hath not only taken a particular 
survey of the faults of his own parish, but a general also of 
the diseases of the time, that so, when his occasions carry 
him abroad, or bring strangers to him, he may be the better 
armed to encounter them. The great and national sin of 



A TRIEST TO THE TE3IPLE. 229 

this land he esteems to be idleness ; great in itself, and great 
in consequence : for when men have nothing to do, then they 
fall to drink, to steal, to whore, to scoff, to revile, to all sorts 
of gamings. " Come," say they, " we have nothing to do, 
let's go to the tavern, or to the stews," or what not. Where- 
fore the Parson strongly opposeth this sin, wheresoever he 
goes. And because idleness is twofold, the one m having 
no calling, the other in walking carelessly in our calling, 
he first represents to everybody the necessity of a voca- 
tion. The reason of this assertion is taken from the nature 
of man, wherein God hath placed two great instruments, 
reason in the soul, and a hand in the body, as engagements 
of working, so that even in Paradise man had a calling ; 
and how much more out of Paradise, when the evils which 
he is now subject unto may be prevented or diverted by 
reasonable employment? Besides, every gift or ability is 
a talent to be accounted for, and to be improved to our 
Master's advantage. Yet it is also a debt to our country to 
have a calling ; and it concerns the commonwealth that none 
should be idle, but all busied. Lastly, riches are the blessing 
of God, and the great instrument of doing admirable good ; 
therefore all are to procure them honestly and seasonably 
when they are not better employed. Now this reason crosseth 
not our Saviour's precept of selling what we have, because 
when we have sold all, and given it to the poor, we must not 
be idle, but labour to get more, that we may give more ; 
according to St Paul's rule (Eph. iv. 28; 1 Thes. iv. 11, 
12). So that our Savioiu-'s selling is so far from crossing 
Saint Paul's working, that it rather establisheth it, since 
they that have nothing are fittest to work. Now because 
the only opposer to this doctrine is the gallant, who is 
witty enough to abuse both others and himself, and who is 
ready to ask if he shall mend shoes, or what he shall do ; 
therefore the Parson, unmoved, sheweth that ingenious and 
fit employment is never wanting to those that seek it. But 
if it should be, the assertion stands thus : all are either to 
have a calling, or prepare for it : he that hath or can have 
yet no employment, if he truly and seriously prepare for it, 



230 Herbert's prose works. 

he is Scafe and within bounds. Wlierefore all are either 
presently to enter into a calling, if they be fit for it and it 
for them, or else to examine with care and advice what they 
are fittest for, and to prepare for that with all diligence. 
But it will not be amiss in this exceeding useful point to 
descend to particulars ; for exactness lies in particulars. Men 
are either single or married ; the married and housekeeper 
hath his hands full, if he do what he ought to do. For there 
are two branches of his affairs ; first, the improvement of his 
family, by bringing them up in the fear and nurture of the 
Lord ; and secondly, the improvement of his grounds, by 
drowning, or draining, or stocking, or fencing, and ordering 
his land to the best advantage both of himself and his neigh- 
bours. The Italians say, " None fouls his hand in his own 
business ;" and it is an honest and just care, so it exceed not 
bounds, for every one to employ himself to the advancement 
of his affairs, that he may have wherewithal to do good. But 
his family is his best care, to labour Christian souls, and raise 
them to their height, even to heaven : to dress and prune 
them, and take as much joy in a straight-growing child, or 
servant, as a gardener doth in a choice tree. Could men 
find out this delight, they would seldom be from home; 
whereas now, of any place they are least there. But if, after 
all his care well dispatched, the housekeeper's family be so 
small, and his dexterity so gi-eat, that he have leisure ta 
look out, the village or parish which either he lives in or is 
near unto it is his employment. He considers every one 
there, and either helps them in particular, or hath general 
propositions to the whole town or hamlet, of advancing the 
public stock, and managing commons or woods, according as 
the place suggests. But if he may be of the commission of 
peace, there is nothing to that : no commonwealth in the 
world hath a braver institution than that of justices of the 
peace : for it is both a security to the king, who hath so 
many dispersed officers at his beck throughout the kingdom, 
accountable for the public good, and also an honourable 
employment of a gentle or nobleman in the country he lives 
in, enabling him with power to do good, and to restrain all 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 231 

those who else might both trouble him and the whole state. 
Wherefore it behoves all who are come to the gravity and 
ripeness of judgment for so excellent a place, not to refuse, 
but rather to procure it. And whereas there are usually 
three objections made against the place ; the one, the abuse 
of it, by taking petty country bribes ; the other, the casting 
of it on mean persons, especially in some shires ; and lastly, 
the trouble of it. These are so far from deterring any good 
men from the place, that they kindle them rather to redeem 
the dignity either from true faults or unjust aspersions. 
Now, for single men, they are either heirs, or younger 
brothers : the heirs are to prepare in all the forementioned 
points against the time of their practice. Therefore they 
are to mark their father's discretion in ordering his house 
and affairs ; and also elsewhere, when they see any remark- 
able point of education or good husbandry, and to transplant 
it in time to his own home, with the same care as others, 
when they meet with good fruit, get a graft of the tree, 
enriching their orchard, and neglecting their house. Besides, 
they are to read books of law and justice; especially the 
Statutes at large. As for better books of divinity, they are 
not in this consideration, because we are about a calling and 
a preparation thereunto. But chiefly, and above all things, 
they are to frequent sessions and assizes ; for it is both an 
honour which they owe to the reverend judges and magis- 
trates to attend them at least in their shire, and it is a great 
advantage to know the practice of the land, for our law is 
practice. Sometimes he may go to court, as the eminent 
place both of good and ill. At other times he is to travel 
over the king's dominions, cutting out the kingdom into 
portions, which every year he surveys piecemeal. When 
there is a parliament, he is to endeavour by all means to be 
a knight or burgess there ; for there is no school to a parlia- 
ment. And when he is there, he must not only be a morning 
man, but at committees also ; for there the particulars are 
exactly discussed, which are brought from thence to the 
house but in general. When none of these occasions call 
him abroad, every morning that he is at home he must either 



232 HERBERT S PROSE TVORKS. 

ride the great horse, or exercise some of his military postures. 
For all gentlemen that are now weakened, and disarmed 
with sedentary lives, are to know the use of their arms : and 
as the husbandman labours for them, so must they fight for 
and defend them when occasion calls. This is the duty of 
each to other, which they ought to fulfil : and the Parson is 
a lover and exciter to justice in all things, even as John the 
Baptist squared out to every one (even to soldiers) what to 
do. As for younger brothers, those whom the Parson finds 
loose, and not engaged in some profession by their parents, 
whose neglect in this point is intolerable, and a shameful 
VvTong both to the commonwealth and their own house ; to 
them, after he hath shewed the unlawfulness of spending 
the day in dressing, complimenting, visiting, and sporting, 
he first commends the study of the civil law, as a brave and 
wise knowledge, the professors whereof were much employed 
by Queen Elizabeth, because it is the key of commerce, and 
discovers the rules of foreign nations. Secondly, he com- 
mends the mathematics as the only wonder-working know- 
ledge, and therefore requiring the best spirits. After the 
several knowledge of these, he adviseth to insist and dwell 
chiefly on the two noble branches thereof, of fortification and 
navigation ; the one being useful to all countries, and the 
other especially to islands. But if the young gallant think 
these courses dull and phlegmatic, where can he busy himself 
better than in those new plantations and discoveries, which 
are not only a noble, but also, as they may be handled, a 
religious employment 'I or let him travel into Germany and 
France, and observing the artifices and manufacturers there, 
transplant them hither, as divers have done lately, to our 
country's advantage. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE parson's library. 

The country Parson's library is a holy life : for besides the 
blessing that that brings upon it, there being a promise, that 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 233 



if the kingdom of God be first sought, all other things shall 
be added, even itself is a sermon. For the temptations with 
which a good man is beset, and the ways which he used to 
overcome them, being told to another, whether in private 
conference or in the church, are a sermon. He that hath 
considered how to carry himself at table about his appetite, 
if he tell this to another, preacheth, and much more feelingly 
and judiciously than he writes his rules of temperance out of 
books. So that the Parson having studied and mastered all 
his lusts and affections within, and the whole army of tempta- 
tions without, hath ever so many sermons ready penned as 
he hath victories. And it fares in this as it doth in physic : 
he that hath been sick of a consumption, and knows what 
recovered him, is a physician, so far as he meets with the 
same disease and temper : and can much better and particu- 
larly do it than he that is generally learned, and was never 
sick. And if the same person had been sick of all diseases, 
and were recovered of all, by things that he knew, there were 
no such physician as he, both for skill and tenderness. Just 
so it is in divinity, and that not without manifest reason : for 
though the temptations may be diverse in divers Christians, 
yet the victory is alike in all, being by the self-same spirit. 
Neither is this true only in the military state of a Christian 
life, but even in the peaceable also ; when the servant of God, 
freed for a while from temptation, in a quiet sweetness seeks 
how to please his God. Thus the Parson considering that 
repentance is the great virtue of the Gospel, and one of the 
first steps of pleasmg God, having for his own use examined 
the nature of it, is able t'o explain it after to others. And 
particularly, having doubted sometimes whether his repent- 
ance were true, or at least in that degree it ought to be, since 
he found himself sometimes to weep more for the loss of some 
temporal things than for offending God, he came at length 
to this resolution, that repentance is an act of the mind, not 
of the body, even as the original signifies ; and that the chief 
thing which God in Scripture requires, is the heart and the 
spirit, and to worship him in truth and spirit. Wherefore 
in case a Christian endeavour to weep, and cannot, since we 



234 Herbert's prose works. 

are not masters of our bodies, this sufficeth. And conse- 
quently he found tnat the essence of repentance, that it may- 
be alike in all God's children (which as concerning weeping 
it cannot be, some being of a more melting temper than 
others), consisteth in a true detestation of the soul abhorring 
and renouncing sin, and turning unto God in truth of heart 
and newness of life : which acts of repentance are and must 
be found in all God's servants. Not that weeping is not use- 
ful, where it can be, that so the body may join in the grief, as 
it did in the sin ; but that, so the other acts be, that is not 
necessary : so that he as truly repents who performs the 
other acts of repentance, when he cannot more, as he that 
weeps a flood of tears. This instruction and comfort the 
Parson getting for himself, when he tells it to others, becomes 
a sermon. The like he doth in other Christian virtues, as of 
faith and love, and the cases of conscience belonging there- 
unto, wherein (as St Paul implies that he ought, Rom. ii.) 
he first preacheth to himself, and then to others. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE parson's dexterity IN APtLTING OF REMEDIES. 

The coimtry Parson knows that there is a double state of 
a ChristiaQ, even in this life : the one military, the other 
peaceable. The military is, when we are assaulted with 
temptations either from within or from without. The peace- 
able is, when the devil for a time leaves us, as he did our 
Saviour, and the angels minister to us their own food, even 
joy, and peace, and comfort in the Holy Ghost. These two 
states were in our Saviour, not only in the begiiming of his 
preaching, but afterwards also, as Matt. xxii. 35, He was 
tempted : And Luke x. 21, He rejoiced in spirit : And they 
must be likewise in all that are his. Now the Parson having 
a spiritual judgment, according as he discovers any of bis 
flock to be in one or the other state, so he applies himself to 
them. Those that he finds in the peaceable state, he adviseth 



A PRIEST TO IxIE TEMPLE. 235 

to be very vigilant, and not to let go tlie reins as soon as the 
horse goes easy. ParlicularJy, he counselleth them to two 
things : First, to take need lest their quiet betray them (as 
it is apt to do) to a coldness and carelessness in their devo- 
tions, but to labour still to be as fervent in Christian duties 
as they remember themselves were, when affliction did blow 
the coals. Secondly, not to take the full compass and liberty 
of their peace : not to eat of all those dishes at table, which 
even their present health otherwise admits ; nor to store 
their house with all those furnitures, which even their pre- 
sent plenty of wealth otherwise admits ; nor, when they are 
among them that are merry, to extend themselves to all that 
mirth, which the present occasion of wit and company other- 
wise admits ; but to put bounds and hoops to their joys: so 
will they last the longer, and when they depart, return the 
sooner. If we would j udge ourselves, we should not be j udged ; 
and if we would bound ourselves, we should not be bounded. 
But if they shall fear that at such or such a time their peace 
and mirth have carried them further than this moderation, 
then to take Job's admirable course, who sacrificed lest his 
children should have transgressed in their mirth : so let them 
go and find some poor afflicted soul, and there be bountiful 
and liberal ; for with such sacrifices Grod is well pleased. 
Those that the Parson finds in the military state, he fortifies 
and strengthens with his utmost skill. Now, in those that 
are tempted, whatsoever is Unruly, falls upon two heads ; 
either they think that there is none that can or will look after 
things, but all goes by chance or wit ; or else, though there 
be a great Governor of all things, yet to them he is lost, as 
if they said, God doth forsake and persecute them, and there 
is none to deliver them. If the Parson suspect the first, and 
find sparks of such thoughts now and then to break forth, 
then without opposing directly (for disputation is no cure for 
atheism), he scatters in his discourse three sorts of arguments. 
The first taken from nature, the second from the law, the 
third from grace. For nature, he sees not how a house could 
be either built without a builder, or kept in repair without a 
housekeeper. He conceives not possibly how the winds should 



236 Herbert's prose works. 



blow so much as they can, and the sea rage as much as it 
can, and all things do what tkey can, and all, not only with- 
out dissolution of the whole, but also of any part, by taking 
away so much as the usual seasons of summer and winter, 
earing and harvest. Let the weather be what it will, stOl 
we have bread, though sometimes more, sometimes less ; 
wherewith also a careful Joseph might meet. He conceives 
not possibly how he that would believe a divinity, if he had 
been at the creation of all things, should less believe it, see- 
ing the preservation of all things ; for preservation is a crea- 
tion ; and more, it is a continued creation, and a creation 
every moment. Secondly, for the law, there may be so 
evident though unused a proof of divinity taken from thence, 
that the atheist or epicurean can have nothing to contradict. 
The Jews yet live and are known : they have their law and 
language bearing witness to them, and they to it : they are 
circumcised to this day, and expect the promises of the 
Scripture ; their country also is known, the places and rivers 
travelled unto and frequented by others, but to them an un- 
penetrable rock, an inaccessible desert. Wherefore if the 
Jews live, all the great wonders of old live in them, and then 
who can deny the stretched-out arm of a mighty God ? espe- 
cially since it may be a just doubt, whether, considering the 
stubbornness of the nation, their living then in their country, 
under so many miracles, were a stranger thing than theii 
present exile, and disability to live in their country. And 
it is observable, that this very thing was intended by God, 
that the Jews should be his proof and witnesses, as he caUs 
them (Isa. xliii, 12). And their very dispersion in all lands, 
was intended not only for a punishment to them, but for an 
exciting to others by their sight to the acknowledging of God 
and his power (Ps. lix. 11). And therefore this kind of 
punishment was chosen rather than any other. Thirdly, for 
grace. Besides the continual succession (since the Gospel) 
of holy men who have borne witness to the truth (there being 
no reason why any should distrust St Luke, or TertuUian, 
or Chrysostom, more than Tully, Virgil, or Livy), there are 
two prophecies in the Gospel, which evidently argue Christ's 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 237 

divinity by their success : the one concerning the woman that 
spent the ointment on our Saviour, for which he told, that 
it should never be forgotten, but with the Gospel itself 
be preached to all ages (Matt, xxvi, 13) ; the other con- 
cerning the destruction of Jerusalem, of which our Saviour 
said that that generation should not pass till all were fulfilled 
(Luke xxi. 32) ; which Josephus's history confirmeth, and the 
continuance of which verdict is yet evident. To these might 
be added the preaching of the Gospel in all nations (Matt. 
xxiv. 14), which we see even miraculously effected in these 
new discoveries, God turning men's covetousness and ambi- 
tions to the effecting of his Word. Now a prophecy is a won- 
der sent to posterity, lest they complain of want of wonders. 
It is a letter sealed and sent, which to the bearer is but paper, 
but to the receiver and opener is full of power. He that saw 
Christ open a blind man's eyes, saw not more divinity than he 
that reads of the woman's ointment in the Gospel, or sees 
Jerusalem destroyed. With some of these heads enlarged 
and woven into this discourse, at several times and occasions, 
the Parson settleth wavering minds. But if he sees them 
nearer desperation than atheism, not so much doubting a God 
as that he is theirs, then he dives into the boundless ocean 
of God's love, and the unspeakable riches of his loving-kind- 
ness. He hath one argument unanswerable. If God hate 
them, either he doth it as they are creatures, dust and ashes, 
or as they are sinful. As creatures, he must needs love them ; 
for no perfect artist ever yet hated his own work. As sinful, 
he must much more love them; because, notwithstanding 
his infinite hate of sin, his love overcame that hate ; and 
with an exceeding great victory, which in the creation needed 
not, gave them love for love, even the Son of his love out of 
his bosom of love ; so that man, which way soever he turns, 
hath two pledges of God's love, that in the mouth of two or 
three witnesses every word may be established; the one 
in his being, the other in his sinful being ; and this is the 
more faulty in him, so the more glorious in God. And all 
may certainly conclude, that God loves them, till either they 
despise that love, or despair of his mercy ; not any sin else 



238 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

but is within his love ; but the despising of love must needs 
be without it. The thrusting away of his arm makes us only 
not embraced. 



CHAPTER XXXY. 

THE parson's CONDESCENDING. 

The country Parson is a lover of old customs, if they be 
good and harmless ; and the rather, because country people 
are much addicted to them, so that to favour them therein is 
to win their hearts, and to oppose them therein is to deject 
them. If there be any ill in the custom that may be severed 
from the good, he pares the apple, and gives them the clean 
to feed on. Particularly he loves procession, and maintains 
it, because there are contained therein four manifest advan- 
tages : First, A blessing of God for the fruits of the field : 
Secondly, Justice in the preservation of bounds : Thirdly, 
Charity in loving walking, and neighbourly accompanying 
one another, with reconciling of differences at that time, if 
there be any : Fourthly, Mercy in relieving the poor by a 
liberal distribution and largess, which at that time is or 
ought to be used. Wherefore he exacts of all to be present 
at the perambulation, and those that withdraw, and sever 
themselves from it, he mislikes, and reproves as uncharitable 
and unneighboiu:ly ; and if they will not reform, presents 
them. Nay, he is so far from condemning such assemblies, 
that he rather procures them to be often, as knowing that 
absence breeds strangeness, but presence love. Now love is 
his business and aim ; wherefore he likes well that his parish 
at good times invite one another to their houses, and he 
urgeth them to it : and sometimes, where he knows there 
hath been or is a little diflference, he takes one of the parties, 
and goes with him to the other, and all dine or sup together. 
There is much preaching in this friendliness. Another old 
custom there is of saying, wlien light is brought in, God sends 
us the light of heaven ; and the Parson likes this very well : 
neither is he afraid of praising or praying to God at all times, 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 239 

but is rather glad of catching opportunities to do them. 
Light is a great blessing, and as great as food, for which we 
give thanks : and those that think this superstitious, neither 
know superstition nor themselves. As for those that are 
ashamed to use this form as being old and obsolete, and not 
the fashion, he reforms and teaches them that at baptism 
they professed not to be ashamed of Christ's cross, or for any 
shame to leave that which is good. He that is ashamed 
in small things, will extend his pusillanimity to greater. 
Rather should a Christian soldier take such occasions to 
harden himself and to further his exercises of mortification. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE PARSON BLESSING. 

The country Parson wonders that blessing the people is 
in so little use with his brethren ; whereas he thinks it not 
only a grave and reverend thing, but a beneficial also. 
Those who use it not, do so either out of niceness, because 
they like the salutations and compliments and forms of 
worldly language better ; which conformity and fashionable- 
ness is so exceedingly unbefitting a minister, that it deserves 
reproof, not refutation, or else because they think it empty 
and superfluous. But that which the apostles used so dili- 
gently in their writings, nay, which our Saviour himself used 
(Mark x. 16), cannot be vain and superfluous. But this was 
not proper to Christ, or the apostles only, no more than to 
be a spiritual father was appropriated to them. And if tem- 
poral fathers bless their children, how much more may and 
ought spiritual fathers ? Besides, the priests of the Old 
Testament were commanded to bless the people, and the 
form thereof is prescribed (Num. vi.) Now, as the Apostle 
argues in another case, if the ministration of condemnation 
did bless, how shall not the ministration of the Spirit exceed 
in blessing? The fruit of this blessing good Hannah found, 
and received with great joy (1 Sam. i. 18), though it came 
from a man disallowed by God : for it w.as not the person 



240 HERBERT'S PROSE WORKS. 

but priesthood that blessed ; so that even ill priests may 
bless. Neither have the ministers power of blessing only, 
but also of cursing. So in the Old Testament, Elisha cursed 
the children (2 Kings ii. 24), which though our Saviour re- 
proved as unfitting for his particular, who was to show all 
humility before his passion, yet he allows it in his apostles. 
And therefore St Peter used that fearful imprecation to 
Simon Magus (Acts viii.), " Thy money perish with thee : " 
and the event confirmed it. So did St Paul, 2 Tim. iv. 
14, and 1 Tim. i. 20. Speaking of Alexander the copper- 
smith, who hath withstood his preaching, " The Lord (saith 
he) reward him according to his works." And again of Hy- 
meneus and Alexander, he saith he had delivered them to 
Satan, that they might learn not to blaspheme. The forms 
both of blessing and cursing are expounded in the Common 
Prayer Book : the one in the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
&c., and the peace of God, &c. ; the other in general in the 
Commination. Now, blessing difi"ers from prayer in assur- 
ance, because it is not performed by way of request, but of 
confidence and power, effectually applying God's favour to 
the blessed by the interesting of that dignity wherewith God 
hath ifi vested the priest, and engaging of God's own power 
and institution for a blessing. The neglect of this duty in 
ministers themselves hath made the people also neglect it ; 
so that they are so far from craving this benefit from their 
ghostly father, that they oftentimes go out of church before 
he hath blessed them. In the time of Popeiy, the priest's 
benedicite and his holy water were over highly valued ; and 
now we are fallen to the clean contrary, even from supersti- 
tion to coldness and atheism. But the Parson first values 
the gift in himself, and then teacheth his parish to value it. 
And it is observable, that if a minister taik with a great man 
in the ordinary course of complimenting language, he shall 
be esteemed as ordinary complimenters ; but if he often in- 
terpose a blessing, when the other gives him just opportunity, 
by speaking any good, this imusual form begets a reverence, 
and makes him esteemed according to his profession. The 
Rame is to be observed in writing letters also. To conclude. 



A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE. 241 

if all men are to bless upon occasion, as appears (Rom. xii 
14), how much more those who are spiritual fathers ? 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 



CONCERNING DETRACTION. 



The country Parson perceiving that most, when they are 
at leisure, make others' faults their entertainment and dis- 
course, and that even some good men think, so they speak 
truth, they may disclose another's faults, finds it some- 
what difficult how to proceed in this point. For if he abso- 
lutely shut up men's mouths, and forbid all disclosing of 
faults, many an evil may not only be, but also spread in his 
parish, without any remedy (which cannot be applied without 
notice), to the dishonour of God and the infection of his flock, 
and the discomfort, discredit, and hindrance of the pastor. 
On the other side, if it be unlawful to open faults, no benefit 
or advantage can make it lawful ; for we must not do evil 
that good may come of it. Now the Parson taking this point 
to task, which is so exceeding useful, and hath taken so deep 
root, that it seems the very life and substance of conversation, 
hath proceeded thus far in the discussing of it. Faults are 
either notorious or private. Again, notorious faults are either 
such as are made known by common fame (and of these, those 
that know them may talk, so they do it not with sport, but 
commiseration) ; or else such as have passed judgment, and 
been corrected either by whipping, or imprisoning, or the 
like. Of these also men may talk, and more, they may dis- 
cover them to those that know them not ; because infamy is 
a part of the sentence against malefactors which the law in- 
tends, as is evident by those which are branded for rogues 
that they may be known, or put into the stocks that they 
may be looked upon. But some may say, though the law 
allow this, the Gospel doth not, which hath so much advanced 
charity, and ranked backbiters among the generation of the 
wicked (Rom. i. 30). But this is easily answered : as the 



242 HERBERT'S PROSE "WORKS. 

executioner is not uncharitable tdiat takes away the life of 
the condemned, except, besides his office, he had a tincture 
of private malice in the joy and haste of acting his part ; so 
neither is he that defames him whom the law would have 
defamed, except he also do it out of rancour. For in infamy 
all are executioners, and the law gives the malefactor to all 
to be defamed. And as malefactors may lose and forfeit their 
goods or life, so may they their good name, and the posses- 
sion thereof, which before their offence and judgment they 
had in all men's breasts ; for all are honest till the contrary 
be proved. Besides, it concerns the commonwealth that 
rogues should be knowTi, and charity to the public hath the 
precedence of private charity. So that it is so far from being 
a fault to discover such offenders, that it is a duty rather, 
which may do much good, and save much harm. Neverthe- 
less, if the punished delinquent shall be much troubled for 
his sins, and turn quite another man, doubtless then also 
men's affections and words must turn, and forbear to speak 
of that which even God himself hath forgotten. 



THE AUTHOR'S PRAYER BEFORE SERMON. 

ALMiaHTY and ever living Lord God ! Majesty and Power, 
and Brightness and Glory ! How shall we dare to appear 
before thy face, who are contrary to thee in all we call thee ? 
for we are darkness, and weakness, and filthiness, and shame. 
Misery and sin fill our days ; yet art thou our Creator, and 
we thy work. Thy hands both made us and also made us 
lords of all thy creatiures ; giving us one world in om'selves 
and another to serve us : then didst thou place us in Para- 
dise, and wert proceeding still on in thy favours until we 
interrupted thy counsels, disappointed thy purposes, and sold 
our God, our glorious, our gracious God, for an apple. write 
it ! brand it in our foreheads for ever : for an apple once 
we lost our God, and still lose him for no more ; for money, 
for meat, for diet ! But thou Lord, art patience, and pity, 
and sweetness, and love ; therefore we sons of men are not 



A PRTE=!T TO THE TEMPLE. 243 

consumed. Thou hast exalted thy mercy above all things, 
and hast made our salvation, not our punishment, thy glory : 
so that then where sin abounded, not death but grace super- 
abounded ; accordingly, when we had sinned beyond any help 
in heaven or earth, then thou saidst, Lo, I come ! then did 
the Lord of life, unable of himself to die, contrive to do it. 
He took flesh, he wept, he died ; for his enemies he died ; 
even for those that derided him then, and still despise him. 
Blessed Saviour ! many waters could not quench thy love, 
nor no pit overwhelm it ! But though the streams of thy 
blood were current through darkness, grave, and hell, yet 
by these thy conflicts, and seemingly hazards, didst thou 
arise triumphant, and therein madest us victorious. 

Neither doth thy love yet stay here ! for this word of thy 
rich peace and reconciliation thou hast committed, not to 
thunder or angels, but to silly and sinful men ; even to me, 
pardoning my sins, and bidding me go feed the people of thy 
love. 

Blessed be the God of heaven and earth, who only doth 
wondrous things. Awake, therefore, my lute and my viol ! 
awake all my powers to glorify thee ! We praise thee, we 
bless thee, we magnify thee for ever ! And now, Lord, 
in the power of thy victories, and in the ways of thy ordi- 
nances, and in the truth of thy love, Lo, we stand here, 
beseeching thee to bless thy word, wherever spoken this day 
throughout the universal Church. make it a word of 
power and peace to convert those who are not yet thine, and 
to confirm those that are ; particularly bless it in this thy 
own kingdom, which thou hast made a land of light, a store- 
house of thy treasures and mercies: let not our foolish 
and unworthy hearts rob us of the continuance of this thy 
sweet love, but pardon our sins, and perfect what thou hast 
begun. Ride on. Lord, because of the word of truth and 
meekness and righteousness, and thy right hand shall teach 
thee terrible things. Especially, kess this portion here 
assembled together, with thy unworthy servant speaking 
unto them. Lord Jesu ! teach thou me that I may teach 
them. Sanctify and enable all my powers, that in their 



244 Herbert's prose works. 

full strength they may deliver thy message reverently, 
readily, faithfully, and fruitfully! make thy word a 
swift word, passing from the ear to the heart, from the 
heart to the life and conversation, that as the ram returns 
not empty, so neither may thy word, but accomplish that 
for which it is given! Lord, hear! Lord, forgive! 
Lord, hearken and do so for thy blessed Son's sake ! in 
whose sweet and pleasing words, we say, Our Father, &c. 



PRAYER AFTER SERMON. 

Blessed be God and the Father of all mercy, who con- 
tinueth to pour his benefits upon us ! Thou hast elected us, 
thou hast called us, thou hast justified us, sanctified, and 
glorified us. Thou wast born for us, and thou livedst and 
diedst for us. Thou hast given us the blessings of this life, 
and of a better. Lord, thy blessings hang in clusters, they 
come trooping upon us ! they break forth like mighty waters 
on every side. And now. Lord, thou hast fed us with the 
bread of life ; so man did eat angel's food. Lord, bless it ; 
Lord, make it health and strength unto us, still striving 
and prospering so long within us, until our obedience reach 
thy measure of thy love, who hast done for us as much as 
may be. Grant this, dear Father, for thy Son's sake, our 
only Saviour ; to whom with thee and the Holy Ghost, three 
persons, but one most glorious incomprehensible God, ba 
ascribed all honour, and glory, and praise, for ever ! Amen. 



JACULA PEUDENTUM; 

OR, 

OUTLANDISH PROVERBS, SENTENCES, &c. 

SELECTED BY MR GEORGE HERBERT, 

lATE OKATOR OF THE UNIVEKSITT OF CAMBBIDGB. 
[first PRINTED IN 1640.] 

Old men go to death, death comes to yoimg men. 

Man proposeth, God disposeth. 

He begins to die that quits his desires. 

A handful of good life is better than a bushel of learning 

He that studies his content, wants it. 

Every day brings its bread "with it. 

Humble hearts have humble desires. 

He that stumbles and falls not, mends his pace. 

The house shows the owner. 

He that gets out of debt, grows rich. 

All is well with him who is beloved of his neighbours. 

Building and marrying of children are great wasters. 

A good bargain is a pick-purse. 

The scalded dog fears cold water. 

Pleasing ware is half sold. 

Light burdens, long borne, grow heavy. 

The wolf knows what the ill beast thinks. 

Who hath none to still him may weep out his eyes. 

When all sins grow old, covetousness is young. 

If ye would know a knave, give him a staff. 

You cannot know wine by the barrel. 

A cool mouth and warm feet live long. 

A horse made, and a man to make. 



HERBERT S PROSE "WORKS. 



Look not for musk in a dog's kennel. 

Not a long day, but a good heart, rids work. 

He pulls with a long rope, that waits for another's death. 

Great strokes make not sweet music. 

A cask and an ill custom must be broken. 

A fat housekeeper makes lean executors. 

Empty chambers make foolish maids. 

The gentle hawk half mans herself. 

The devil is not always at one door. 

When a friend asks, there is no to-morrow. 

God sends cold according to clothes. 

One sound blow will serve to undo us all. 

He loseth nothing, that looseth not God. 

The German's wit is in his fingers. 

At dinner my man appears. 

Who gives to all, denies all. 

Quick believers need broad shoulders. 

Who remove stones, bruise their fingers. 

Benefits please like flowers while they are fresh. 

Between the business of life and the day of death, a space 

ought to be interposed. 
All came from and will go to others. 
He that will take the bird, must not scare it. 
He lives unsafely that looks too near on things. 
A gentle housewife mars the household. 
A crooked log makes a straight fire. 
He hath great need of a fool that plays the fool himself. 
A merchant that gains not, loseth. 
Let not him that fears feathers come among wild-fowL 
Love, and a cough, cannot be hid. 
A dwarf on a giant's shoulder, sees further of the two. 
He that sends a fool, means to follow him. 
Babbling curs never want fore ears. 
Better the feet slip than the tongue. 
For washing his hands, none sells his lands. 
A lion's skin is never cheap. 
The goat must browse where she is tied. 
Nothing is to be presumed on, or despaired of. 



JACULA PRUDENTUM. 247 



Who hath a wolf for his mate, needs a dog for his man. 

In a good house all is quickly ready. 

A bad dog never sees the wolf. 

God oft hath a great share in a Httle house. 

Ill ware is never cheap. 

A cheerful look makes a dish a feast. 

If all fools had baubles, we should want fuel. 

Virtue never grows old. 

Evening words are not like to morning. 

Were there no fools, bad ware would not pass. 

Never had ill workman good tools. 

He stands not surely that never slips. 

Were there no hearers, there would be no backbiters 

Everything is of use to a housekeeper. 

When prayers are done, my lady is ready. 

Cities seldom change religion only. 

At length the fox turns monk. 

Flies are busiest about lean horses. 

Hearken to reason, or she will be heard. 

The bird loves her nest. 

Everything new is fine. 

When a dog is a drowning, every one offers him driiiJiu 

Better a bare foot than none. 

Who is so deaf as he that will not hear ? 

He that is warm thinks all so. 

At length the fox is brought to the furrier. 

He that goes barefoot must not plant thorns. 

They that are booted are not always ready. 

He that will learn to pray, let him go to sea. 

In spending lies the advantage. 

He that lives well, is learned enough. 

Ill vessels seldom miscarry. 

A full belly neither fights nor flies well. 

All truths are not to be told. 

An old wise man's shadow is better than a young buzzards 

sword. 
Noble housekeepers need no doors. 
Every ill man hath his ill day. 



248 Herbert's prose works. 

Sleep without supping, and wake without owing. 

I gave the mouse a hole, and she is become my heir. 

Assail who will, the valiant attends. 

Whither goest, grief? where I am wont. 

Praise day at night, and life at the end. 

Whither shall the ox go where he shall not labour? 

Where you think there is bacon, there is no chimney. 

Mend yoiu* clothes, and you may hold out this year. 

Press a stick, and it seems a youth. 

The tongue walks where the teeth speed not. 

A fair wife and a frontier castle breed quarrels. 

Leave jesting whiles it pleaseth, lest it turns to earnest. 

Deceive not thy physician, confessor, nor lawyer. 

Ill natures, the more you ask them, the more they stick. 

Virtue and a trade are the best portion for children. 

The chicken is the country's, but the city eats it. 

He that gives thee a capon, give him the leg and the wing. 

He that lives ill, fear follows him. 

Give a clown your finger, and he will take your hand. 

Good is to be sought out, and evil attended. 

A good paymaster starts not at assurances. 

No alchymy to saving. 

To a grateful man give money when he asks. 

Who would do ill ne'er wants occasion. 

To fine folks a little ill finely wrapt. 

A child correct behind, and not before. 

To a fair day, open the window, but make you ready as to a 

foul. 
Keep good men company, and you shall be of the number. 
No love to a father's. 
The mill gets by going. 
To a boiling pot flies come not. 
Make haste to an ill way, that you may get out of it. 
A snow year, a rich year. 
Better to be blind than to see ill. 
Learn weeping, and thou shalt laugh gaining. 
Who hath no more bread than need, must not keep a dog. 
A garden must be looked unto and dressed as the body. 



JACULA PRtTDENTUM. 249 

The fox, when he cannot reach the grapes, says they are 

not ripe. 
Water trotted is as good as oats. 

Though the mastiff be gentle, yet bite him not by the lip. 
Though a lie be well dressed, it is ever overcome. 
Though old and wise, yet still advise. 
Three helping one another, bear the burthen of six. 
Slander is a shipwreck by a dry tempest. 
Old wine and an old friend are good provisions, 
Happy is he that chastens himself, 
Well may he smell fire whose go"\vn burns. 
The wrongs of a husband or master are not reproached. 
Welcome evil, if thou comest alone. 
Love your neighbour, yet pull not down your hgdge. 
The bit that one eats, no friend makes. 
A drunkard's purse is a bottle. 
She spins well that breeds her children. 
Good is the mora that makes all sure. 
Play with a fool at home, and he will play with you in the 

market. 
Every one stretcheth his legs according to his coverlet. 
Autumnal agues are long or mortal. 
Marry your son when you will ; your daughter when you can. 
Dally not with money or women. 
Men speak of the fair as things went with them there. 
The best remedy against an ill man, is much ground between 

both. 
The mill cannot grind with water that's past. 
Com is cleaned with wind, and the soul with chastenings. 
Good words are worth much, and cost little. 
To buy dear is not bounty. 
Jest not with the eye, or with religion. 
The eye and religion can bear no jesting. 
Without favour none will know you, and with it you will not 

know yourself. 
Buy at a fair, but sell at home. 
Cover yourself with your shield, and care not for cries. 
A wicked man's gift hath a touch of his master. 



250 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

None is a fool always, every one sometimes. 

From a choleric man withdraw a little ; from him that says 

nothing, for ever. 
Debtors are liars. 

Of all smells, bread ; of all tastes, salt. 
In a great river great fish are fomid : but take heed lest you 

be drowned. 
Ever since we wear clothes, we know not one another. 
God heals, and the physician hath the thanks. 
Hell is full of good meanings and wishings. 
Take heed of still waters, the quick pass away. 
After the house is finished, leave it. 
Our own actions are our security, not others' judgments. 
Thmk of ease, but work on. 
He that lies long a-bed, his estate feels it. 
Whether you boil snow or pound it, you can have but water 

of it. 
One stroke fells not an oak. 
God complains not, but doth what is fitting. 
A diligent scholar, and the master's paid. 
Milk says to wine, Welcome friend. 
They that know one another, salute afar ofl". 
Where there is no honour, there is no grief. 
Where the drink goes in, there the wit goes out. 
He that stays does the business. 
Alms never make poor. Or thus, 
Great almsgiving lessens no man's living. 
Giving much to the poor doth enrich a man's store. 
It takes much from the account, to which his sin doth amount. 
It adds to the glory both of soul and body. 
Ill comes in by eUs, and goes out by inches. 
The smith and his penny both are black. 
Whose house is of glass, must not throw stones at another. 
If the old dog bark, he gives counsel. 
The tree that grows slowly, keeps itself for another. 
I wept when I was born, and every day shews why. 
He that looks not before, finds himself behind. 
He that plays his money ought not to value it. 



JACULA PRUDENTUM. 251 

He that riseth first, is first drest. 

Diseases of the eye are to be cured with the elbow. 

The hole calls the thief. 

A gentleman's greyhound and a salt box, seek them at the fire. 

A child's service is little, yet he is no little fool that de- 

spiseth it. 
The river past, and God forgotten. 
Evils have their comfort ; good none can support (to wit) 

with a moderate and contented heart. 
Who must account for himself and others, must know both. 
He that eats the hard shall eat the ripe. 
The miserable man maketh a penny of a farthing, and the 

liberal of a farthing sixpence. 
The honey is sweet, but the bee stings. 
Weight and measm-e take away strife. 
The son full and tattered, the daughter empty and fine. 
Every path hath a puddle. 

In good years corn is hay, in ill years straw is com. 
Send a wise man on an errand, and say nothing unto him. 
In life you loved me not, in death you bewail me. 
Into a mouth shut, flies fly not. 
The heart's letter is read in the eyes. 
The ill that comes out of our mouth falls into our bosom. 
In great pedigrees there are governors and chandlers. 
In the house of a fiddler, all fiddle. 
Sometimes the best gain is to lose. 
Working and making a fire doth discretion require. 
One grain fills not a sack, but helps his fellows. 
It is a great victory that comes without blood. 
In war, hunting, and love, men for one pleasure a thousand 

griefs prove. 
Reckon right, and Febmary hath one and thirty days. 
Honour without profit is a ring on the finger. 
Estate in two parishes is bread in two wallets. 
Honour and profit lie not in one sack. 
A naughty child is better sick than whole. 
Truth and oil are ever above. 
He that riseth betimes, hath something in his head. 



252 Herbert's prose ttorks. 

Advise none to marry or go to war. 

To steal the hog, and give the feet for alms. 

The thorn comes forth with the point forwards. 

One hand washeth another, and both the face. 

The fault of the horse is put on the saddle. 

The corn hides itself in the snow as an old man in furs. 

The Jews spend at Easter, the Moors at marriages, the Chris- 
tians in suits. 

Fine dressing is a foul house swept before the doors. 

A woman and a glass are ever in danger. 

An ill wound is cured, not an ill name, 

The wise hand doth not all that the foolish mouth speaks. 

On painting and fighting look aloof. 

Knowledge is folly except grace guide it. 

Punishment is lame, but it comes. 

The more women look in their glass, the less they look to 
their house. 

A long tongue is the sign of a short hand. 

Marry a widow before she leaves mourning. 

The worst of law is, that one suit breeds twenty. 

Providence is better than a rent. 

What your glass tells you, will not be told by counsel. 

There are more men threatened than stricken. 

A fool knows more in his house, than a wise man in another's. 

I had rather ride on an ass that carries me, than a horse that 
throws me. 

The hard gives more than he that hath nothing. 

The beast that goes always, never wants blows. 

Good cheap is dear. 

It costs more to do ill than to do well. 

Good words quench more than a bucket of water. 

An ill agreement is better than a good judgment. 

There is more talk than trouble. 

Better spare to have of thine own, than ask of other men. 

Better good afar off, than evil at hand. 

Fear keeps the garden better than the gardener. 

I had rather ask of my sire brown bread, than borrow of my 
neighbour white. 



JACFLA PRTIDENTUM. 253 

Yolir pot broken seems better than my whole one. 

Let an ill man lie in thy straw, and he looks to be thy heir. 

By suppers more have been killed than Galen ever cured. 

While the discreet advise, the fool doth his business. 

A mountain and a river are good neighbours. 

Gossips are frogs, they drink and talk. 

Much spends the traveller more than the abider. 

Prayers and provender hinder no journey. 

A well-bred youth neither speaks of himself, nor, being 

spoken to, is silent. 
A journeying woman speaks much of all, and all of her. 
The fox knows much, but more he that catcheth him. 
Many friends in general, one in special. 
The fool asks much, but he is more fool that grants it. 
Many kiss the hand they wish cut off. 
Neither bribe, nor lose thy right. 

In tha world who knows not to swim, goes to the bottom. 
Choose not a house near an inn (viz. for noise) : or in a 

corner (for filth). 
He is a fool that thinks not that another thinks. 
Neither eyes on letters, nor hands in coffers. 
The lion is not so fierce as they paint him. 
Go not for every grief to the physician, nor for every quarrel 

to the lawyer, nor for every thirst to the pot. 
Good service is a great enchantment. 
There would be no great ones, if there were no little ones. 
It is no sure rule to fish with a cross-bow. 
There were no ill language, if it were not ill taken. 
The groundsel speaks not, save what it heard at the hinges. 
The best mirror is an old friend. 
Say no ill of the year till it be past. 
A man's discontent is his worst evil. 
Fear nothing but sin. 

The child says nothing, but what it heard by the fire. 
Call me not an olive, till thou see me gathered. 
That is not good language Avhich all understand not. 
He that burns his house, warms himself for once. 
He will burn his house to warm his hands. 



254 Herbert's prose works. 



He will spend a whole year's rent at one meal's meat. 

All is not gold ttiat sjlisters. 

A blustering night, a fair day. 

Be not idle, and you shall not be longing. 

He is not poor that hath little, but he that desireth much. 

Let none say, I will not drink water. 

He wrongs not an old man that steals his supper from him 

The tongue talks at the head's cost. 

He that strikes with his tongue, must ward with his head. 

Keep not ill men company, lest you increase the number. 

God strikes not with both hands, for to the sea he made 

heavens, and to rivers fords. 
A rugged stone grows smooth from hand to hand. 
No lock wiU hold against the power of gold. 
The absent party is still faulty. 
Peace and patience, and death with repentance. 
If you lose your time, you cannot get money nor gain. 
Be not a baker, if your head be of butter. 
Ask much to have a little. 
Little sticks kindle the fire ; great ones put it out. 
Another's bread costs dear. 
Although it rain, throw not away thy watering pot. 
Although the sun shine, leave not thy cloak at home. 
A little with quiet is the only diet. 
In vain is the mill -clack, if the miller his hearing lack. 
By the needle you shall draw the thread, and by that which 

is past, see how that which is to come will be di'awn on. 
Stay a little, and news will find you. 
Stay till the lame messenger come, if you will know the truth 

of the thing. 
When God wiU, no wind but brings rain. 
Though you rise early, yet the day comes at his time, and 

not till then. 
PiiU down your hat on the wind's side. 
As the year is, your pot must seethe. 
Since you know all, and I nothing, tell me what I dreamed 

last night. 
When the fox preacheth, beware geese. 



JACULA PRUDENTUM. 255 

When you are an anvil, liold you still ; when you are a 

hammer, strike your fill. 
I'oor and liberal, rich and covetous. 
He that makes his bed ill, lies there. 
He that labours and thrives, spends gold. 
He that sows, trusts in God. 
He that lies with the dogs, riseth with fleas. 
He that repairs not a part, builds all. 
A discontented man knows not where to sit easy. 
Who spits against heaven, it falls in his face. 
He that dines and leaves, lays the cloth twice. 
Who eats his cock alone, must saddle his horse alone. 
He that is not handsome at twenty, nor strong at thirty, nor 

rich at forty, nor wise at fifty, will never be handsome, 

strong, rich, or wise. 
He that doth what he will, doth not what he ought. 
He that will deceive the fox must rise betimes. 
He that lives well, sees afar oflp. 
He that hath a mouth of his own, must not say to another, 

Blow. 
He that will be served, must be patient. 
He that gives thee a bone, would not have thee die. 
He that chastens one, chastens twenty. 
He that hath lost his credit, is dead to the world. 
He that hath no ill fortune, is troubled with good. 
He that demands, misseth not, uidess his demands be 

foolish. 
He that hath no honey in his pot, let him have it in his 

mouth. 
He that takes not up a pin, slights his wife. 
He that owes nothing, if he makes not mouths at us, is 

coiurteous. 
He that loseth his due, gets not thanks. 
He that believes all, misseth ; he that believeth nothing, 

hits not. 
Pardons and pleasantness are great revengers of slanders. 
A married man turns his stafl' uito a stake. 
[f you would know secrets, look them in grief or pleasurft 



256 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

Serve a noble disposition, though poor ; the time comes that 

he will repay thee. 
The fault is as great as he that is faulty. 
If folly were grief, every house would weep. 
He that would be well old, must be old betimes. 
Sit in your place, and none can make you rise. 
If you could run as you drink, you might catch a hare. 
Would you know what money is, go borrow some. 
The morning sun never lasts a day. 
Thou hast death in thy house, and dost bewail another's. 
All griefs with bread are less. 
All things require skill, but an appetite. 
All things have their place, knew we how to place them. 
Little pitchers have wide ears. 
We are fools one to another. 
This world is nothing except it tend to another. 
There are three ways, the universities, the sea, the court. 
God comes to see without a bell. 
Life without a friend, is death without a witness. 
Clothe thee in war, arm thee in peace. 
The horse thinks one thing, and he that saddles him 

another. 
Mills and wives ever want. 
The dog that licks ashes, trust not with meal. 
The buyer needs a hundred eyes, the seller not one. 
He carries well, to whom it weighs not. 
The comforter's head never aches. 
Step after step the ladder is ascended. 
Who likes not the drink, God deprives him of bread. 
To a crazy ship all winds are contrary. 
Justice pleaseth few in their own house. 
In time comes he, whom God sends. 
Water afar off quencheth not fire. 
In sports and journeys men are known. 
An old friend is a new house. 
Love is not foimd in the market. 
Dry feet, warm head, bring safe to bed. 
He is rich enough that wants nothing. 



JACULA PRUDENTUM. 257 

One father is enough to govern one hundred sons, but not a 

hundred sons one father. 
Far shooting never killed bird. 
An upbraided morsel never choked any. 
Dearths foreseen come not. 
An ill labourer quarrels with his tools. 
He that falls into the dbrt, the longer he stays there the 

fouler he is. 
He that blames would buy. 
He that sings on Friday will weep on Sunday. 
The charges of building, and making of gardens, are unknown. 
My house, my house, though thou art small, thou art to rae 

the Escurial. 
A hundred load of thought will not pay one of debts. 
He that comes of a hen must scrape. 
He that seeks trouble never misses. 
He that once deceives, is ever suspected. 
Being on sea, sail ; being on land, settle. 
Who doth his own business, fouls not his hands. 
He that makes a good war, makes a good peace. 
He that works after his own manner, his head aches not at 

the matter. 
Who hath bitter in his mouth, spits not all sweet. 
He that hath children, all his morsels are not his own. 
He that hath the spice, may season as he list. 
He that hath a head of wax, must not walk in the sun. 
He that hath love in his breast, hath spurs in his sides. 
He that respects not is not respected. 
He that hath a fox for his mate, hath need of a net at his 

girdle. 
He that hath right, fears ; he that hath wrong, hopes. 
He that hath patience, hath fat thrushes for a farthing. 
Never was strumpet fair. 
He that measures not himself is measured. 
He that hath one hog, makes him fat ; and he that hath one 

son, makes him a fool. 
Who lets his wife go to every feast, and his horse drink at 

every water, shall neither have good wife nor good horse. 



258 Herbert's prose works. 

He that speaks sows, and he that holds his peace gathers. 

He that hath little is the less dirty. 

He that lives most dies most. 

He that hath one foot in the straw hath another in the 

spittle. 
He that is fed at another's hand, may stay long ere he be 

full. 
He that makes a thing too fine, breaks it. 
He that bewails himself hath the cure in his hands. 
He that would be well, needs not go from his own house. 
Counsel breaks not the head. 
Fly the pleasure that bites to-morrow. 
He that knows what may be gained in a day, never steals. 
Money refused loseth its brightness. 
Health and money go far. 
Where your will is ready, your feet are light. 
A great ship asks deep waters. 
Woe to the house where there is no chiding. 
Take heed of the vinegar of sweet wine. 
Fools bite one another, but wise men agree together. 
Trust not one night's ice. 
Good is good, but better carries it. 
To gain teacheth how to spend. 
Good finds good. 

The dog gnaws the bone because he cannot swallow it. 
The crow bewails the sheep, and then eats it. 
Building is a sweet impoverishing. 
The first degree of folly is to hold one's self wise, tlie second 

to possess it, the third to despise counsel. 
The greatest step is that out of doors. 
To weep for joy is a kind of manna. 
The first service a child doeth his father is to make him 

foolish. 
The resolved mind hath no cares. 
In the kingdom of a cheater, the wallet is carried before. 
The eye will have his part. 
The good mother says not. Will you ? but gives. 
A house and a woman suit excellently. 



JACULA PRUDENTUM. 259 

In the kingdom of blind men, the one-eyed is king. 

A Kttle kitchen makes a large house. 

War makes thieves, and peace hangs them. 

Poverty is the mother of health. 

In the morning mountains, in the evening fountains. 

The back door robs the house. 

Wealth is like rheum, it falls on the weakest parts. 

The gown is his that wears it, and the world his that enjoys it. 

Hope is the poor man's bread. 

Virtue now is in herbs, and stones, and words only. 

Fine words dress ill deeds. 

Labom* as long lived, pray as even dying. 

A poor beauty finds more lovers than husbands. 

Discreet women have neither eyes nor ears. 

Things well fitted abide. 

Prettiness dies first. 

Talking pays no toll. 

The master's eye fattens the horse, and his foot the ground. 

Disgraces are like cherries, one draws another. 

Praise a hill, but keep below. 

Praise the sea, but keep on land. 

In choosing a wife, and buying a sword, we ought not to trust 

another. 
The wearer knows where the shoe wrings. 
Fan- is not fair, but that which pleaseth. 
There is no jollity but hath a smack of folly. 
He that's long a giving knows not how to give. 
The filth under the white snow the sun discovers. 
Every one fastens where there is gain. 
All feet tread not in one shoe. 
Patience, time, and money accommodate all things. 
For want of a nail the shoe is lost, for want of a shoe the 

horse is lost, for want of a horse the rider is lost. 
Weigh justly, and sell dearly. 
Little wealth little care. 
Little journeys and good cost bring safe home. 
Gluttony kills more than the sword. 
When children stand quiet, they have done some ill. 



i 



260 Herbert's prose torks. 

A little and good fills the trencher. 

A penny spared is twice got. 

When a knave is in a plum-tree, he hath neither friend nor ^ 

kin. 
Short boughs, long vintage. 
Health -without money is half an ague. 
If the wife erred not, it would go hard with fools. 
Bear with evil and expect good. 
He that tells a secret is another's servant. 
If all fools wore white caps, we should seem a flock of geese. 
Water, fire, and soldiers, quickly make room. 
Pension never enriched a young man. 
Under water, famine ; under snow, bread. 
The lame goes as far as your staggerer. 
He that loseth is merchant, as well as he that gains. 
A jade eats as much as a good horse. 
All things in their being are good for something. 
One flower makes no garland. 
A fair death honours the whole life. 
One enemy is too much. 
Living well is the best revenge. 
One fool makes a hundred. 
One pair of ears draws dry a hundred tongues. 
A fool may throw a stone into a well, which a hundred wise 

men cannot pull out. 
One slumber finds another. 
On a good bargain think twice. 
To a good spender God is the treasurer. 
A curst cow hath short horns. 
Music helps not the toothache. 
We cannot come to honour under coverlet. 
Great pains quickly find ease. 
To the counsel of fools a wooden bell. 
The choleric man never wants woe. 
Help thyself, and God will help thee. 
At the game's end we shall see who gains. 
There are many ways to fame. 
Love is the true price of love. 



JACTJLA PRUDENTFM. 261 

Love rules his kingdom without a sword. 

Love makes all hearts gentle. 

Love makes a good eye squint. 

Love asks faith, and faith firmness. 

A sceptre is one thing, and a ladle another. 

Great trees are good for nothing but shade. 

He commands enough that obeys a wise man. 

Fair words make me look to my purse. 

Though the fox run, the chicken hath wings. 

He plays well that wins. 

You must strike in measure, when there are many to strike 

on one anvil. 
The shortest answer is doing. 

It is a poor stake that cannot stand one year in the ground. 
He that commits a fault thinks every one speaks of it. 
He that is foolish in the fault, let him be wise in the punish 

ment. 
The blind eats many a fly. 
He that can make a fire well can end a quarrel. 
The toothache is more ease than to deal with ill people. 
He that would have what he hath not, should do what he 

doth not. 
He that hath no good trade, it is to his loss. 
The offender never pardons. 
He that lives not well one year, sorrows seven after. 
He that hopes not for good, fears not evil. 
He that is angry at a feast, is rude. 
He that mocks a cripple ought to be whole. 
When the tree is fallen, all go with their hatchet. 
He that hath horns in his bosom let him not put them on 

his head. 
He that burns most, shines most. 
He that trusts in a lie, shall perish in truth. 
He that blows in the dust, fills his eyes with it. 
Bells call others, but themselves enter not into the church. 
Of fair things, the Autumn is fair. 
Giving is de«,d, restoring very sick. 
A gift much expected is paid, not given. 



262 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

Two ill meals make the third a glutton. 

The royal crown cures not the headache. 

'Tis hard to be wretched, but worse to be known so. 

A feather in hand is better than a bird in the air. 

It is better to be the head of a lizard than the tail of a lion. 

Good and quickly seldom meet. 

Folly grows without watering. 

Happier are the hands compassed with iron, than a heart 

without thoughts. 
If the staff be crooked, the shadow cannot be straight. 
To take the nuts from the fire with the dog's foot. 
He is a fool that makes a wedge with his fist. 
Valour that parleys is near yielding. 
Thursday come, and the week is gone. 
A flatterer's throat is an open sepulchre. 
There is great force hidden in a sweet command. 
The command of custom is great. 
To have money is a fear, not to have it a grief. 
The cat sees not the mouse ever. 
Little dogs start the hare, the great get her. 
Willows are weak, yet they bind other wood. 
A good payer is master of another's purse. 
The thread breaks where it is weakest. 
Old men, when they scorn young, make much of death. 
God is at the end, when we think he is furthest off it. 
A good judge conceives quickly, judges slowly. 
Rivers need a spring. 

He that contemplates hath a day without night. 
Give losers leave to talk. 
Loss embraceth shame. 
Gaming, women, and wine, while they laugh, they make 

men pine. 
The fat man knoweth not what the lean thinketh. 
Wood half burned is easily kindled. 
The fish adores the bait. 
He that goeth far hath many encounters. 
Every bee's honey is sweet. 
The slothful is the servant of the counters. 



JACULA PEUDENTUM. 263 j 

Wisdom hath one foot on land, and another on sea. 
The thought hath good legs, and the quill a good tongue. 
A wise man needs not blush for changing his purpose. 
The March sun raises, but dissolves not. I 

Time is the rider that breaks youth. j 

The wine in the bottle doth not quench thirst. j 

The sight of a man hath the force of a lion. j 

An examined enterprise goes on boldly. ! 

In every art it is good to have a master. I 

In every country dogs bite. | 

In every country the sun rises in the morning. | 

A noble plant suits not with a stubborn ground. I 

You may bring a horse to the river, but he will drink when 1 
and what he pleaseth. i 

Before you make a friend, eat a bushel of salt with him. I 

Speak fitly, or be silent wisely. I 

Skill and confidence are an unconquered anny. | 

I was taken by a morsel, says the fish. I 

A disarmed peace is weak. ! 

The balance distinguisheth not between gold and lead. 
The persuasion of the fortunate sways the doubtful. 
To be beloved is above all bargains. 

To deceive oneself is very easy. I 

The reasons of the poor weigh not. ; 

Perverseness makes one squint-eyed. 
The evening praises the day, and the morning a frost 
The table robs more than the thief. 
When age is jocund, it makes sport for death. 
True praise roots and spreads. j 

Fears are divided in the midst. • { 

The soul needs few things, the body many. I 

Astrology is true, but the astrologers cannot find it. 
Tie it well, and let it go. 
Empty vessels sound most. 
Send not a cat for lard. 
Foolish tongues talk by the dozen. 
Love makes one fit for any work. 
A pitiful mother makes a scald head. 



Herbert's prose works. 



An old physician, and a young lawyer. 

Talk much, and err much, says the Spaniard. 

Some make a conscience of spitting in the church, yet rob 

the altar. 
An idle head is a box for the wind. 
Show me a liar, and I will show thee a thief. 
A bean in liberty is better than a comfort in prison. 
None is born master. 
Show a good man his error, and he turns it to a virtue ; but 

an ill, it doubles his fault. 
None is offended but by himself. 
None says his gamer is full. 
In the husband wisdom, in the wife gentleness. 
Nothing dries sooner than a tear. 
In a leopard the spots are not observed. 
Nothing lasts but the church. 
A wise man cares not for what he caimot have. 
It is not good fishing before the net. 
He cannot be virtuous that is not rigorous. 
That which will not be spun, let it not come between the 

spindle and the distaff. 
When my house burns, it is not good playing at chess. 
No barber shaves so close but another finds werk. 
There is no great banquet, but some fares ill. 
A holy habit cleanseth not a foul soul. 
Forbear not sowing because of birds. 
Mention not a halter in the house of him that was hanged. 
Speak not of a dead man at the table. 
A hat is not made for one shower. 
No sooner is a temple built to God, but the devil builds 

a chapel hard by. 
Every one puts his fault on the times. 
You cannot make a windmiU go with a pair of bellows. 
Pardon all but thyself 
Every one is weary, the poor in seeking, the rich in keejy- 

ing, the good in learning. 
The escaped mouse ever feels the taste of the bait 
A little wind kindles, much puts out the fire. 



JACULA PETJDENTUM. 265 

Dry bread at home is better than roast meat abroad. 

More have repented speech than silence. 

The covetous spends more than the liberal. 

Divine ashes are better than earthly meal. 

Beauty draws more than oxen. 

One father is more than a hundred schoolmasters. 

One eye of the master's sees more than ten of the servants'. 

When God will punish, he will first take away the under- 
standing. 

A little labour, much health. 

When it thunders, the thief becomes honest. 

The tree that God plants, no winds hurt it. 

Knowledge is no burthen. 

It is a bold mouse that nestles in the cat's ear. 

Long jesting was never good. 

If a good man thrive, all thrive with him. 

If the mother had not been in the oven, she had never sought 
her daughter there. 

If great men would have care of little ones, both would last 
long. 

Though you see a churchman ill, yet continue in the church 
still. 

Old praise dies unless you feed it. 

If things were to be done twice, all would be wise. 

Had you the world on your chess-board, you could not fill all 
to your mind, 

Sufi'er and expect. 

If fools should not fool it, they shall lose their season. 

Love and business teach eloquence. 

That which two will, takes efiect. 

He complains wrongfully on the sea, that twice suffers ship* 
wreck. 

He is only bright that shines by himself. 

A valiant man's look is more than a coward's sword. 

The efi"ect speaks, the tongue needs not. 

Divine grace was never slow. 

Reason lies between the spur and the bridle. 

It is a proud horse that will not carry his own provender. 



266 HEKBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

Three women make a market. 

Three can hold their peace if two be away. 

It is an ill counsel that hath no escape. 

All our pomp the earth covers. 

To whirl the eyes too much, shows a kite's brain. 

Comparisons are odious. 

All keys hang not on one girdle. 

Great businesses turn on a little pin. 

The wind in one's face makes one wise. 

All the arms of England wOl not arm fear. 

One sword keeps another in the sheath. 

Be what thou wouldst seem to be. 

Let all live as they would die. 

A gentle heart is tied with an easy thread. 

Sweet discourse makes short days and nights. 

God provides for him that trusteth. 

He that will not have peace, God gives him war. 

To him that will, ways are not wanting. 

To a great night, a great lanthorn. 

To a child all weather is cold. 

Where there is peace, God is. 

None is so wise, but the fool overtakes him. 

Fools give to please all but their own. 

Prosperity lets go the bridle. 

The friar preached against stealing, and had a goose in bis i 

sleeve. I 

To be too busy gets contempt. 
February makes a bridge, and March breaks it. 
A horse stumbles that hath four legs. i 

The best smell is bread, the best savour salt, the best love ! 

that of children. | 

That is the best gown that goes up and down the house. 
The market is the best garden. ; 

The first dish pleaseth all. I 

The higher the ape goes, the more he shows his tail. | 

Night is the mother of councils. i 

God's mill grinds slow, but sure. > 

Every one thinks his sack heaviest. j 



I 



JACTJLA PRUDBNTUM. 267 

Prought never brought dearth. 

All complain. 

Gamesters and race-horses never last long. 

It is a poor sport that is not worth the candle. 

He that is fallen cannot help him that is do\Yn. 

Every one is witty for his own purpose. 

A little let lets an ill workman. 

Good workmen are seldom rich. 

By doing nothing we learn to do ill. 

A great dowry is a bed full of brambles. 

No profit to honour, no honour to religion. 

Every sin brings its punishment with it. 

Of him that speaks ill, consider the life more than the word. 

You cannot hide an eel in a sack. 

Give not Saint Peter so much, to leave Saint Paul nothing. 

You cannot slay a stone. 

The chief disease that reigns this year is folly. 

A sleepy master makes his servant a lout. 

Better speak truth rudely, than lie covertly. 

He that fears leaves, let him not go into the wood. 

One foot is better than two crutches. 

Better suffer ill, than do ill. 

Neither praise nor dispraise thyself ; thy actions serve the 

turn. 
Soft and fair goes far. 
The constancy of the benefit of the year in their seasons 

argues a Deity. 
Praise none too much, for all are fickle. 
It is absurd to warm one in his armour. 
Lawsuits consume time, and money, and rest, and friends. 
Nature draws more than ten teams. 
He that hath a wife and children, wants not business. 
A ship and a woman are ever repairing. 
He that fears death, lives not. 
He that pities another, remembers himself. 
He that doth what he should not, shall feel what he would 

not. 
He that marries for wealth, sells his liberty. 



268 Herbert's prose works. 

He that once hits, is ever bending. 

He that serves, must serve. 

He that lends, gives. 

He that preacheth, giveth alms. 

He that cockers his child, provides for his enemy. 

A pitiful look asks enough. 

Who will sell the cow, must say the word. 

Service is no inheritance. 

The faulty stands on his guard. 

A kinsman, a friend, or whom you entreat, take not to serve 

you, if you will be served neatly. 
At court, every one for himself. 
To a crafty man, a crafty and a half. 
He that is thrown, would ever wrestle. 
He that serves well, need not ask his wages. 
Fair language grates not the tongue. 
A good heart cannot lie. 
Good swimmers at length are drowned. 
Good land, evU way. 
In doing we learn. 

It is good walking with a horse in one's hand. 
God, and parents, and our master, can never be requited- 
An ill deed cannot bring honour. 
A small heart hath small desires. 
AU are not merry that dance lightly. 
Courtesy on one side only lasts not long. 
Wine-counsels seldom prosper. 
Weening is not measure. 

The best of the sport is to do the deed, and say nothing. 
If thou thyself canst do it, attend no other's help or hand. 
Of a little thing, a little displeaseth. 
He warms too near that biu'ns. 
God keep me from four houses— a usurer's, a tavern, a spital, 

and a prison. 
In an hundred ells of contention there is not an inch of love 
Do what thou oughtest, and come what come can. 
Hunger makes dinners, pastime suppers. ] 

In a long journey straw weighs. i 



JACULA PBTJDENTUM. 269 

Women laugh when they can, and weep when they will. 

War is death's feast. 

Set good against evil. 

He that brings good news knocks hard. 

Beat the dog before the lion. 

Haste comes not alone. 

You must lose a fly to catch a trout. 

Better a snotty child than his nose wiped off. 

He is not free that draws his chain. 

He goes not out of his way that goes to a good inn. 

There comes nought out of the sack, but what was there. 

A little given seasonably, excuses a great gift. 

He looks not well to himself that looks not ever. 

He thinks not well, that thinks not again. 

Religion, credit, and the eye are not to be touched. 

The tongue is not steel, yet it cuts. 

A white wall is the paper of a fool. 

They talk of Christmas so long, that it comes. 

That is gold which is worth gold. 

It is good tying the sack before it be full. 

Words are women, deeds are men. 

Poverty is no sin. 

A stone in a well is not lost. 

He can give little to his servant that licks his knife. 

Promising is the eve of giving. 

He that keeps his own, makes war. 

The wolf must die in his own skin. 

Goods are theirs that enjoy them. 

He that sends a fool, expects one. 

He that can stay, obtains. 

He that gains well and spends well, needs no account book. 

He that endures is not overcome. 

He that gives all before he dies, provides to suffer. 

He that talks much of his happiness, summons grief. 

He that loves the tree, loves the branch. 

Who hastens a glutton, chokes him. 

Who praiseth St Peter, doth not blame St Paul. 

He that hath not the craft, let him shut up shop. 



270 Herbert's prose -works. 

He that knows nothing, doubts nothing. 

Green wood makes a hot fire. 

He that marries late, marries ill. 

He that passeth a winter's day, escapes an enemy. 

The rich knows not who is his friend. 

A morning sun, and a wine-bred child, and a Latin-bred 

woman, seldom end well. 
To a close-shorn sheep, God gives wind by measure. 
A pleasure long expected, is dear enough sold. 
A poor man's cow dies a rich man's child. 
The cow knows not what her tail is worth till she has 

lost it. 
Choose a horse made, and a wife to make. 
It is an ill air where we gain nothing. 
He hath not lived, that lives not after death. 
So many men in court, and so many strangers. 
He quits his place well, that leaves his friend here. 
That which sufficeth is not little. 

Good news may be told at any time, but ill in the morning. 
He that would be a gentleman, let him go to an assault. 
Who pays the physician does the cure. 
None knows the weight of another's burtheo. 
Every one hath a fool in his sleeve. 
One hoiur's sleep before midnight is worth three after. 
In a retreat, the lame are foremost. 
It is more pain to do nothing than something. 
Amongst good men, two men suflSice. 
Their needs a long time to know the world's pulse. 
The offspring of those that are very young, or very old, lasts 

not. 
A tyrant is most tyrant to himself. 
Too much taking heed is loss. 
Craft against craft makes no living. 
The reverend are ever before. 
France is a meadow that cuts thrice a year. 
It is easier to build two chimneys, than to maintain one. 
The court hath no almanack. 
He that will enter into Paradise, must have a good key. 



JACULA PRFDENTUM. 271 

When you enter into a house, leave the anger ever at the 

door. 
He hath no leisure who useth it not. 
It is a wicked thing to make a dearth one's garner. . 
He that deals in the world needs four sieves. 
Take heed of an ox before, of a horse behind, of a monk on 

all sides. 
The year does nothing else but o];|%n and shut. 
The ignorant hath an eagle's wings and an owl's eyes. 
There are more physicians in health than drunkards. 
The wife is the key of the house. 
The law is not the same at morning and at night. 
War and physic are governed by the eye. 
Half the world knows not how the other half lives. 
Death keeps no calendar. 
Ships fear fire more than water. 
The least foolish is wise. 
The chief box of health is time. 
Silks and satins put out the fire in the chimney. 
The first blow is as much as two. 
The life of man is a winter way. 
The way is an ill neighbour. 
An old man's stafi" is the rapper of death's door. 
Life is half spent before we know what it is. 
The singing man keeps his shop in his throat. 
The body is more dressed than the soul. 
The body is sooner dressed than the soul. 
The physician owes all to the patient, but the patient owes 

nothing to him but a little money. 
The little cannot be great, unless he devour many. 
Time undermines us. 
The choleric drinks, the melancholic eats, the phlegmatic 

sleeps. 
The apothecary's mortar spoils the luter's music. 
Conversation makes one what he is. 
The deaf gains the injury. 
Years know more than books. 
Wine is a turn-coat (first a friend, then an enemy). 



272 Herbert's prose works. 

Wine ever pays for his lodging. 

Wine makes all sorts of creatures at table. 

Wine that costs nothing is digested before it be drunk. 

Trees eat but once. 

Armour is light at table. 

Good horses make short miles. 

Castles are forests of stones. I 

The dainties of the great me the tears of the poor. 

Parsons are souls' waggoners. 

Children when they are little make parents fools ; when they 

are great they make them mad. 
The master absent, and the house dead. 
Dogs are fine in the field. 
Sins are not known till they be acted. 
Thorns whiten, yet do nothing. 

All are presumed good till they are found in a fault. i 

The great put the little on the hook. j 

The great would have none great, and the little all little. 
The Italians are wise before the deed, the Germans in the 

deed, the French after the deed. 
Every mile is two in winter. 
Spectacles are death's arquebuse. 
Lawyers' houses are built on the heads of fools. 
The house is a fine house when good folks are within. 
The best bred have the best portion. 
The first and last frosts are the worst. 
Gifts enter everywhere without a wimble. 
Princes have no way. 

Knowledge makes one laugh, but wealth makes one dance. 
The citizen is at his business before he rise. 
The eyes have one language everywhere. 

It is better to have wings than horns. - , 

Better be a fool than a knave. ■ | 

Count not four, except you have them in a wallet. ' ' 

To live peaceably with all, breeds good blood. 
You may be on land, yet not in a garden. 
You cannot make the fire so low, but it will get out. 
We know not who lives or dies. 



JACTJLA PRUBENTUM. 273 

All ox is taken by the horns, and a man by the tongue. 

Many things are lost for want of asking. 

No churchyard is so handsome, that a man would desire 

straight to be buried there. 
Cities are taken by the ears. 
Once a year a man may say, On his conscience. 
We leave more to do when we die, than we have done. 
With customs we live well, but laws undo us. 
To speak of a usurer at the table, mars the wine. 
Pains to get, care to keep, fear to lose. 
For a morning rain, leave not your journey. 
One fair day in winter makes not birds merry. 
He that learns a trade, hath a purchase made. 
When all men have what belongs to them, it cannot be 

much. 
Though God take the sun out of the heaven, yet we must 

have patience. 
When a man sleeps, his head is in his stomach. 
When one is on horseback, he knows all things. 
When God is made the master of a family, he orders the 

disorderly. 
When a lackey comes to hell's door, the devils lock the 

gates. 
He that is at ease seeks dainties. 
He that hath charge of souls, transports them not in 

bundles. 
He that tells his wife news, is but newly married. 
He that is in a town in May, loseth his spring. 
He that is in a tavern, thinks he is in a vine-garden 
He that praiseth himself, spattereth himself. 
He that is a master, must serve (another). 
He that is surprised at the first frost, feels it all the winter 

after. 
He a beast doth die, that hath done no good to his country. 
He that follows the Lord, hopes to go before. 
He that dies without the company of good m.en, puts nut 

himself into a good way. 

needs no heart. 

s 



£74 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

Who hath no haste in his business, mountains to him seem 

valleys. 
Speak not of my debts, unless you mean to pay them. 
He that is not in the wars, is not out of danger. 
He that gives me small gifts, would have me live. 
He that is his own counsellor, knows nothing sure but what 

he hath laid out. 
He that hath lands, hath quarrels. 
He that goes to bed thirsty, riseth healthy. 
Who will make a door of gold, must knock a nail every day. 
A trade is better than service. 
He that lives in hope, danceth without music. 
To review one's store is to mow twice. 
Saint Luke was a saint and physician, yet is dead. 
Without business, debauchery. 
Without danger, we cannot get beyond danger. 
Health and sickness surel}" are men's double enemies. 
If gold knew what gold is, gold would get gold, I wis. 
Little losses amaze, great tame. 

Choose none for thy servant who have served thy betters. 
Service without reward is punishment. 
If the husband be not at home, there is nobody. 
An oath that is not to be made, is not to be kept. 
The eye is bigger than the belly. 
If you would be at ease, all the world is not. 
Were it not for the bone in the leg, all the world would tun? 

carpenters. 
If you must fly, fly well. 
All that shakes falls not. 
All beasts of prey are strong, or treacherous. 
If the brain sows not corn, it plants thistles. 
A man well mounted is ever choleric. 
Every one is a master and servant. 
A piece of a churchyard fits every body. 
One mouth doth nothing without another. 
A master of straw eats a servant of steel 
An old cat sports not with her prey. 
A woman conceals what she knows not. 



JACULA PRUDENTUM. 275 

He that wipes the child's nose, kisseth the mother's cheek. 

Gentility is nothing but ancient riches. 

To go where the king goes afoot. 

To go upon the Franciscan's hackney. 

Amiens was taken by the Fox, and retaken by the Lion. 

After death the doctor. 

Ready money is a ready medicine. 

It is the philosophy of the distaff. 

It is a sheep of Beery, it is marked on the nose. (Applied to 

those that have a blow.) 
To build castles in Spain. 
An idle youth, a needy age. 
Silk doth quench the fire in the kitchen. 
The words ending in ique, do mock the physician ; as Hec- 

tique, Paralitique, Apoplectique, Lethargique. 
He that trusts much obliges much, says the Spaniard. 
He that thinks amiss, concludes worse. 
A man would live in Italy (a place of pleasure) but he would 

choose to die in Spain, where they say the Catholic religion 

is professed with greatest strictness. 
Whatsoever was the father of a disease, an ill diet was the 

mother. 
Frenzy, heresy, and jealousy, seldom cured. 
There is no heat of affection but is joined with some idleness 

of brain, says the Spaniard. 
The war is not done so long as my enemy lives. 
Some evils are cured by contempt. 
Power seldom grows old at Court. 
Danger itself the best remedy for danger. 
Favour will as surely perish as life. 
Fear the beadle of the law. 
Heresy is the school of pride. 
For the same man to be a heretic and a good subject, is 

im]3ossible. 
Heresy may be easier kept out than shook off. 
Infants' manners are moulded more by the example of parents, 

than by stars at their nativities. 
They favour learning whose actions are worthy of a learned pen. 



276 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

Modesty sets off one newly come to honour. 

Ko naked man is sought after to be rifled. 

There is no such conquering weapon as the necessity of con- 
quering. 

Nothing secure unless suspected. 

No tie can oblige the perfidious. 

Spies are the ears and eyes of princes. 

The life of spies is to know, not to be known. 

Religion a stalking horse to shoot other fowl. 

It is a dangerous fire begins in the bed straw. 

Covetousness breaks the bag. 

Fear keeps and looks to the vineyard, and not the owner. 

The noise is greater than the nuts. 

Two sparrows on one ear of corn make an ill agreement. 

The world is now-a-days, God save the conqueror. 

Unsound minds, like unsound bodies, if you feed, you poison. 

Not only ought fortune to be pictured on a wheel, but every- 
thing else in this world. 

All covet, all lose. 

Better is one Accipe, than twice to say, Dabo tihi. 

An ass endures his burden, but not more than his burden. 

Threatened men eat bread, says the Spaniard. 

The beads in the hand, and the devil in capuch ; or, cape ol 
the cloak. 

He that will do thee a good turn, either he will be gone or 
die. 

I escaped the thunder and fell into the lightning. 

A man of a great memory without learning, hath a rock and 
a spindle, and no staff to spin. 

The death of wolves is the safety of the sheep. 

He that is once born, once must die. 

He that hath but one eye, must be afraid to lose it. 

He that makes himself a sheep, shall be eat by the wolf. 

He that steals an tgg, will steal an ox. 

He that will be surety, shall pay. 

He that is afraid of leaves, goes not to the wood. 

In the mouth of a bad dog falls often a good bone. 

Those that God loves do not live long. 



JACULA PRUDENTUM. 277 

Still fisheth he that catcheth one. 

All flesh is not venison. 

A city that parleys is half gotten. 

A dead bee maketh no honey. 

An old dog barks not in vain. 

They that hold the greatest farms, pay the least rent. (Ap- 
plied to rich men that are unthankful to God.) 

Old camels carry young camels' skins to the market. 

He that hath time and looks for better time, time comes 
that he repents himself of time. 

Words and feathers the wind carries away. 

Of a pig's tail you can never make a good shaft. 

The bath of the blackmoor hath sworn not to whiten. 

To a gi-eedy eating horse a short halter. 

The devil divides the world between atheism and superstition. 

Such a saint, such an offering. 

We do it soon enough, if that we do be well. 

Cruelty is more cruel, if we defer the pain. 

What one day gives us, another takes away from us. 

To seek in a sheep five feet when there are but four. 

A scabbed horse cannot abide the comb. 

God strikes with his finger, and not with all his arm. 

God gives his wrath by weight, and without weight his mercy. 

Of a new prince, new bondage. 

New things are fair. 

Fortune to one is mother, to another is stepmother. 

There is no man, though never so little, but sometimes he can 
hurt. 

The horse that draws after him his halter is not altogether 



We must recoil a little, to the end we may leap the better. 

Ko love is foul nor prison fair. 

No day so clear, but hath dark clouds. 

No hair so small, but hath his shadow. 

A wolf will never make war against another wolf. 

We must love, as looking one day to hate. 

It is good to have some friends both in heaven and helL 

It is very hard to shave an egg 



278 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

It is good to hold the ass by the bridle. 

The healthful man can give counsel to the sick. 

The death of a young wolf doth never come too soon. 

The rage of a wild boar is able to sjjoil more than one wood. 

Virtue flies from the heart of a mercenary man. 

The wolf eats oft of the sheep that have been warned. 

The mouse that hath but one hole is quickly taken. 

To play at chess when the house is on fire. 

The itch of disputing is the scab of the church. 

Follow not truth too near the heels, lest it dash out thy teeth. 

Either wealth is much increased, or moderation is much 

decayed. 
Say to pleasure. Gentle Eve, I will none of your apple. 
When war begins, then hell openeth. 
There is a remedy for everything, could men find it. 
There is an hour wherein a man might be happy all his life, 

could he find it. 
Great fortune brings with it great misfortune. 
A fair day in winter is the mother of a storm. 
Woe be to hiui that reads but one book. 
Tithe, and be rich. 

/ The wrath of a mighty man, and the tumult of the 
people. 
Mad folks in a narrow place. 
Credit decayed, and people that have nothing. 
A young wench, a prophetess, and a Latin-bred 

woman. 
A person marked, and a widow thrice married. 
Foul dirty ways, and long sickness. 
Wind that comes in at a hole, and a reconciled enemy. 
V A stepmother ; the very name of her sufiiceth. 
Princes are venison in heaven. 
Critics are like brushers of noblemen's clothes. 
He is a great necromancer, for he asks counsel of the dead : 

i. e., books. 
A man is known to be mortal by two things, sleep and lust. 
Love without end, hath no end, says the Spaniard : meaning, 
if it were not begun on particular ends, it would last. 



Take 

heed 

of 



ja:!uia prtjdeis'tum. 27P 

Stay awhile, tiiat we may make an end the sooner. 

Presents of love fear not to be ill taken of strangers. 

To seek these things is lost labour : Geese in an oil-pot, fat 

hogs among Jews, and wine in a fishing-net. 
Some men plant an opinion they seem to eradicate. 
The philosophy of princes is to dive into the secrets of men, 

leaving the secrets of nature to those that have spare time. 
States have their conversions and periods as well as natural 

bodies. 
Great deservers grow intolerable presumers. 
The love of money and the love of learning rarely meet. 
Trust no friend with that you need ; fear him as if he were 

your enemy. 
Some had rather lose their friend than their jest. 
Marry your daughters betimes, lest they marry themselves. 
Soldiers in peace are like chimneys in summer. 
Here is a talk of the Turk and the Pope, but my next neigh- 
bour doth me more harm than either of them both. 
Civil wars of France made a million of atheists, and thirty 

thousand witches. 
We bachelors laugh and show our teeth, but you married men 

laugh till your hearts ache. 
The devil never assails a man except he find him either voi< 

of knowledge, or of the fear of God. 
There is nobody will go to hell for company. 
Much money makes a country poor, for it sets a dearer prire 

on everything. 
The vuiue of a coward is suspicion. 
A man's destiny is always dark. 

Every man's censure is first moulded in his own nature. 
Money wants no followers. 
Vour thoughts close, and your countenance loose. 
Whatever is made by the hand of man, by the hand of man 

may be overturned. 



LETTERS. 



From George Herbert to Mr H. Herbert. 

Brother, 1618. 

The disease which I am troubled with now is the short- 
ness of time, for it hath been my fortune of late to have 
such sudden warning, that I have not leisure to impart unto 
you some of those observations which I have framed to my- 
self in conversation, and whereof I would not have you igno- 
rant. As I shall find occasion, you shall receive them by 
pieces ; and if there be any such which you have found use- 
ful to yourself, communicate them to me. You live in a brave 
nation, where, except you wink, you cannot but see many 
brave examples. Be covetous, then, of all good which you 
see in Frenchmen, whether it be in knowledge, or in fashion, 
or in words ; for I would have you, even in speeches to ob- 
serve so much, as when you meet with a witty French speech, 
try to speak the like in English : So shall you play a good 
merchant, by transporting French commodities to your own 
country. Let there be no kind of excellency which it is pos- 
sible for you to attain to, which you seek not, and have a 
good conceit of your wit ; mark what I say, have a good con- 
ceit of your wit — that is, be proud, not with a foolish vaunt- 
ing of yourself when there is no cause, but by setting a just 
price of your quahties : And it is the part of a poor spirit to 
undervalue himself and blush. But I am out of my time : 
When I have more time, you shall hear more ; and write 



LETTERS. 281 



you freely to me in your letters, for I am your ever loving 
brother, G. Herbert. 

P.S. My brother is somewhat of the same temper, and 
perhaps a little more mild, but you will hardly perceive it. 

To my dear Brother, 
Mr Henry Herbert, at Paris. 



Dear Brother, 
I WAS glad of your Cambridge news, but you joyed me 
exceedingly with your relation of my lady duchess's forward- 
ness in our church building. I am glad I used you in it, 
and you have no cause to be sorry, since it is God's business. 
If there fall out yet any rub, you shall hear of me ; and your 
offering of yourself to move my Lords of Manchester and 
Bolingbroke is very welcome to me. To show a forwardness 
in religious works is a good testimony of a good spirit. The 
Lord bless you, and make you abound in every good work, 
to the joy of your ever loving brother, 

G. Herbert. 

March 21, Bemerton. 



To my dear Brother, 
Sir Henry Herbert, at Court. 



Dear Brother, 
That you did not only entertain my proposals, but ad- 
vance them, was lovingly done, and like a good brother. 
Yet truly it was none of my meaning, when I wrote, to put 
one of our nieces into your hands, but barely what I wrote I 
meant, and no more, and am glad that, although you offer 
more, yet you will do, as you write, that also. I was desirous 
to put a good mind into the way of charity, and that was all 
I intended. For concerning your offer of receiving one, I 
will tell you what I wrote to our eldest brother, when he 



282 Herbert's prose works. 

urged one upon me, and but one, and that at my choice. I 
wrote to him that I would have both or neither ; and that 
upon this ground, because they were to come into an un- 
known country, tender in knowledge, sense, and age, and 
knew none but one who could be no company to them. There- 
fore I considered that if one only came, the comfort intended 
would prove a discomfort. Since that I have seen the fruit 
of my observation ; for they have lived so lovingly, lying, eat- 
ing, walking, praying, working, still together, that I take a 
comfort therein, and would not have to part them yet, till 
I take some opportunity to let them know your love, for 
which both they shall and I do thank you. It is true there 
is a third sister, whom to receive were the greatest charity of 
all, for she is youngest and least looked unto ; having none 
to do it but her schoolmistress, and you know what those 
mercenary creatures are. Neither has she any to repair unto 
at good times, as Christmas, &c., which you know is the en- 
couragement of learning all the year after, except my cousin 
Bett take pitie of her, which yet at that distance is some 
difficulty. If you could think of taking her, as once you did, 
surely it were a great good deed, and I would have her con- 
veyed to you. But I judge you not : do that which God 
shall put into your heart, and the Lord bless all your pur- 
poses to his glory. Yet, truly, if you take her not, I am 
thinking to do it, even beyond my strengih ; especially at 
this time, being more beggarly now than I have been these 
many years, as having spent two hundred pounds in build- 
ing ; which to me that have nothing yet, is very much. But 
though I both consider this, and yom' observation also of 
the unthankfulness of kindred bred up (which generally is 
very true), yet I care not ; I forget all things, so I may do 
them good that want it. So I do my part to them, let them 
think of me what they will or can. I have another Judge, 
to whom I stand or fall. If I should regard such things, it 
were in another's power to defeat my charity, and evil should 
be stronger than good : but difficulties are so far from cooling 
Christians, that they whet them. Truly it grieves me to 
think of the child, how destitute she is, and that in this 



LETTERS. 283 

necessary time of education. For the time of breeding is the 
time of doing children good : and not as many who think 
they have done fairly, if they leave them a good portion after 
their decease. But take this rule, and it is an outlandish 
one, which I commend to you as being now a father, The best 
bred child hath the best jDortion. Well, the good God bless 
you more and more, and all yours, and make your family a 
houseful of God's servants. So prays your ever loving 
brother, 

G. Herbert. 

My wife's and nieces' service. 

To my very dear Brother, 
Sir Hemy Herbert, at Court. 



LETTERS WRITTEN AT CAMBRIDGE. 
For my dear sick Sister. 
Most dear Sister, 

Think not my silence forgetfulness, or that my love is 
as dumb as my papers ; though business may stop my hand, 
vet my heart, a much better member, is always with you : 
and whidi is more, with our good and gracious God, inces- 
santly begging some ease of your pains, with that earnestness 
that becomes your griefs and my love. God who knows and 
sees this writing, knows also that my soliciting him has been 
much, and my tears many for you ; judge me then by those 
waters, and not by my ink, and then you shall justly value 
your most truly, most heartily, affectionate brother and 
servant, 

George Herbert. 

Trinity College, December 6, 1620. 



284 Herbert's prose works. 

To Sir John Danvers. 
Sir, 
Though I had the best wit in the world, yet it would 
easily tire me to find out variety of thanks for the diversity 
of your favours, if I sought to do so ; but I profess it not : 
And therefore let it be sufficient for me, that the same heart 
which you have won long since is still true to you, and hath 
nothing else to answer your infinite kindnesses, but a con- 
stancy of obedience ; only hereafter I will take heed how 1 pro- 
pose my desires unto you, since T find you so willing to yield to 
my requests ; for, since your favours comea-horseback,there is 
reason that my desires should go a-foot ; neither do I make 
any question, but that you have performed your kindness to 
the full, and that the horse is every way fi.t for me, and I 
will strive to imitate the completeness of your love, with 
being in some proportion, and after my manner, your most 
obedient servant, . George Herbert. 



I DARE no longer be silent, lest while I think I am modest, 
I wrong both myself, and also the confidence my friends 
have in me ; wherefore I will open my case unto you, which 
I think deserves the reading at the least ; and it is this, I 
want books extremely. You know, sir, how I am now setting 
foot into divinity, to lay the platform of my future life, and 
shall I then be fain always to borrow books, and build on 
another' s foundation ? W hat tradesman is there who will set 
up without his tools ? Pardon my boldness, sir, it is a most 
serious case, nor can I write coldly in that wherein con- 
sisteth the making good of my former education, of obeying 
that Spirit which hath guided me hitherto, and of achieving 
my (I dare say) holy ends. This also is aggravated, in that 
I apprehend what my friends would have been forward to 
say, if I had taken ill courses, Follow your book and you 
shall want nothing. You know, sir, it is their ordinary 
speech, and now let them make it good ; for since I hope I 



LETTERS. 285 

have not deceived their expectations, let not them deceive 
mine ; but perhaps they will say, You are sickly, you must 
not study too hard ; it is true (God knows) I am weak, yet 
not so but that every day I may step one step towards my 
journey's end; and I love my friends so well, that if all 
things proved not well, I had rather the fault should lie on 
me than on them ; but they will object again. What becomes 
of your annuity 1 Sir, if there be any truth in me, I find it 
little enough to keep me in health. You know I was sick 
last vacation, neither am I yet recovered, so that T am fain, 
ever and anon, to buy somewhat tending towards my health ; 
for infirmities are both painful and costly. Now this Lent I 
am forbid utterly to eat any fish, so that I am fain to diet in 
my chamber at mine own cost ; for in our public halls, you 
know, is nothing but fish and white-meats ; out of Lent, also 
twice a-week, on Fridays and Saturdays, I must do so, which 
yet sometimes I fast. Sometimes also I ride to Newmarket, 
and there lie a day or two for fresh air ; all which tend to 
avoiding of costlier matters, if I should fall absolutely sick : 
I protest and vow I even study thrift, and yet I am scarce 
able with much ado to make one half-year's allowance shake 
hands with the other. And yet if a book of four or five 
shillings come in my way, I buy it, though I fast for it ; yea, 
sometimes of ten shillings : but, alas ! sir, what is that to 
those infinite volumes of divinity, which yet every day swell 
and grow bigger ? Noble sir, pardon my boldness, and con- 
sider but these three things. First, the bulk of divinity ; 
secondly, the time when I desire this (which is now, when 1 
must lay the foundation of my whole life) ; thirdly, what I 
desire, and to what end, not vain pleasures, nor to a vain end. 
If then, sir, there be any course, either by engaging my 
future annuity, or any other way, I desire you, sir, to be my 
mediator to them in my behalf. 

Now I write to you, sir, because to you I have ever opened 
my heart ; and have reason, by the patents of your perpetual 
favour, to do so still, for I am sure you love your faithfullest 
servant, George Herbert. 

Trinity College, March 18, 1617. 



286 Herbert's prose -works. 

Sir, 

This week hath loaded me with your favours ; I wish I 
could have come in person to thank you, but it is not pos- 
sible. Presently after Michaelmas I am to make an oration 
to the whole University of an hour long in Latin, and my 
Lincoln journey hath set me much behind hand ; neither 
can I so much as go to Bugden, and deliver your letter, yet 
I have sent it thither by a faithful messenger this day. I 
beseech you all, you and my dear mother and sister, to pardon 
me, for my Cambridge necessities are stronger to tie me 
here, than yours to London. If I could possibly have come, 
none should have done my message to Sir Fr. Nethersole for 
me. He and I are ancient acquaintance, and I have a strong 
opinion of him, that if he can do me a courtesy, he will of 
himself; yet your appearing in it affects me strangely. I 
have sent you here enclosed a letter from our master on my 
behalf, which if you can send to Sir Francis before his de- 
parture, it will do well, for it expresseth the University's 
inclination to me ; yet if you caimot send it with much con- 
venience, it is no matter, for the gentleman needs no incita- 
tion to love me. 

The orator's place (that you may understand what it is) is 
the finest place in the University, though not the gainfullest ; 
yet that will be about L.30 per annum ; but the commodious- 
ness is beyond the revenue ; for the orator writes all the 
University letters, makes all the orations, be it to king, 
prince, or whatever comes to the University. To requit these 
pains, he takes place next the doctors, is at all their assem- 
blies and meetings, and sits above the proctors, is regent or 
non-regent at his pleasure, and such like gaynesses, which 
will please a young man well. 

I long to hear from Sir Francis. I pray, sir, send the 
letter you receive from him to me as soon as you can, that 
I may work the heads to my purpose. I hope I shall get 
this place without all your London helps, of wliich I am very 
proud, not but that T joy in your favours, but that you may 
see that if all fail, yet I am able to stand on mine own legs. 



LETTERS. 287 

Noble sir, I thank you for your infinite favours ; I fear only 
that I have omitted some fitting circumstance, yet you will 
pardon my haste, which is very great, though never so but 
that I have both time and work to be your extreme servant, 

George Herbert. 



Sir, 
I HAVE received the things you sent me safe, and now the 
only thing I long for is to hear of my dear sick sister : first, 
how her health fares ; next, whether my peace be yet made 
with her concerning my unkind departure. Can I be so 
happy as to hear of both these that they succeed well ? Is 
it not too much for me ? Good sir, make it plain to her that 
I loved her even in my departure, in looking to her son, and 
my charge. I suppose she is not disposed to spend her eye- 
sight on a piece of paper, or else I had wrote to her. When 
I shall understand that a letter will be seasonable, my pen 
is ready. Concerning the orator's place, all goes well yet ; 
the next Friday it is tried, and accordingly you shall hear. 
I have forty businesses in my hands : your courtesy will par- 
don the haste of your humblest servant, 

George Herbert. 

Trinity College, January 19, 1619. 



Sir, 
I understand, by Sir Francis Nethersole's letter, that 
he fears T have not fully resolved of the matter, since this 
place being civil may divert me too much from divinity, at 
which, not without cause, he tliinks I aim ; but I have wrote 
him back, that this dignity hath no such earthiness in it, 
but it may very well be joined with heaven ; or if it had to 
others, yet to me it should not, for aught I yet knew ; and 
therefore I desire him to send me a direct answer in his next 
letter. I pray, sir, therefore, cause this inclosed to be carried 
to his brother's house of his own name (as I think) at the 
sign of the Pedler and the Pack on London Bridge, for 



288 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

there he assigns me. I cannot yet find leisure to write to 
my lord, or Sir Benjamin Ruddyard ; but I hope I shall 
shortly; though for the reckoning of your favours I shall 
never find time and paper enough, yet am I your readiest 
servant, George Herbert. 

Trinity College, October 6, 1619. 

I remember my most humble duty to my mother, ■who 
cannot think me lazy, since I rode 200 miles to see a sister, 
in a way I knew not, and in the midst of much business, and 
all in a fortnight, not long since. 

To the truly noble Sir J. D. 
Sir, 
I UNDERSTAND, by a letter from my brother Henry, that 
he hath bought a parcel of books for me, and that they are 
coming over. Now, though they have hitherto travelled 
upon your charge, yet if my sister were acquainted that they 
are ready, I dare say she would make good her promise of 
taking five or six pounds upon her, which she hath hitherto 
deferred to do, not of herself, but upon the want of those 
books, which were not to be got in England ; for that which 
surmounts, though your noble disposition is infinitely free, 
yet I had rather fly to my old ward, that if any course could 
be taken of doubling my annuity now, upon condition that 
I should surcease from all title to it after I entered into a 
benefice, I should be most glad to entertain it, and both pay 
for the surplusage of these books, and for ever after cease my 
clamorous and greedy bookish requests. It is high time now 
that I should be no more a burden to you, since I can never 
answer what I have abeady received ; for youi" favoui's are 
so ancient, that they prevent my memory, and yet still grow 
upon your humblest servant, George Herbert. 

I remember my most humble duty to my mother. I have 
wrote to my dear sick sister this week already, and therefore 
now I hope may be excused. 



LETTERS. 



289 



I pray, sir, pardon my boldness of enclosing my brother's 
letter in yours, for it was because I know your lodging, but 
not his. 



To the Right Hon. the Lady Anne, Countess of Pem- 
broke and Montgomery, at Court. 
Madam, 

What a trouble hath your goodness brought on you, bj 
admitting oui' poor services ! now they creep in a vessel o( 
methegiin, and still they will be presenting or wishing to see 
if at length they may find out something not unworthy oi 
those hands at which they aim. In the meantime a priesfs 
blessing, though it be none of the court style, yet, doubtless. 
Madam, can do you no hurt: Wherefore the Lord make 
good the blessing of your mother upon you, and cause all he? 
wishes, diligence, prayers and tears, to bud, blow, and bear 
fruit in your soul, to his glory, your own good, and the great 
i 3V of. Madam, your most faithful servant in Christ Jesus, 

George Herbert. 

Dec. 10, 1631. Bemerton. 

Madam, your poor colony of servants present their humble 
duties. 



MISCELLANEOTIS. 



A TREATISE OF TEMPERANCE AND SOBRIETY. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN OF LUDOVICUS 
CORNARUS. 

Having observed in my time many of my friends, of ex- 
cellent wit and noble disposition, overthrown and undone 
by intemperance ; who, if they had lived, would have been 
an ornament to the world, and a comfort to their friends ; I 
thought fit to discover, in a short treatise, that intemperance 
was not such an evil but it might easily be remedied ; which 
I undertake the more willingly, because divers worthy young 
men have obliged me unto it. For when they saw their 
parents and kindred snatched away in the midst of their 
days, and me, contrariwise, at the age of eighty and one, 
strong and lusty, they had a great deshe to know the way 
of my life, and how I came to be so. Wherefore, that I may 
satisfy their honest desire, and withal help many others, who 
will take this into consideration, I will declare the causes 
which moved me to forsake intemperance, and live a sober life, 
expressing also the means which I have used therein. I say 
therefore, that the infirmities, which did not only begin, but 
had already gone far in me, first caused me to leave intem- 
perance, to which I was much addicted : for by it, and my ill 
constitution (having a most cold and moist stomach), I fell 
into divers diseases ; to wit, into the pain of the stomach, and 
often of the side, and the beginning of the gout, with almost 
a continual fever and thirst. 



A TREATISE OF TEMPERANCE AND SOBRIETY. 291 

From this ill temper there remained little else to be ex- 
pected of me, than that after many troubles and griefs I 
should quickly come to an end ; whereas my life seemed as 
far from it by nature, as it was near it by intemperance. 
When, therefore, I was thus afflicted from the thirty-fifth 
year of my age to the fortieth, having tried all remedies 
fruitlessly, the physicians told me that yet there was one 
help for me, if I could constantly pursue it— to Avit, a sober 
and orderly life: for this had every Avay great force for the 
recovering and preserving of health, as a disorderly life to 
the overthrowing of it : as I too well by experience found. 
For temperance preserves even old men and sickly men sound : 
But intemperance destroys most healthy and flourishing 
constitutions : for contrary causes have contrary effects, and 
the faults of nature are often amended by art, as barren 
gromids are made fruitful by good husbandry. They added 
withal, that unless I speedily used that remedy, within a 
few months I should be driven to that exigent, that there 
would be no help for me, but death shortly to be expected. 

Upon this, weighing their reasons with myself, and ab- 
horring from so sudden an end, and finding myself con- 
tinually oppressed with pain and sickness, I grew fully per- 
suaded, that all my griefs arose out of intemperance ; and 
therefore out of a hope of avoiding death and pain, I resolved 
to live a temperate life. 

Whereupon, being directed by them in the way I ought 
to hold, I understood, that the food I was to use was such as 
belonged to sickly constitutions, and that in a small quantity. 
This they had told me before : but I then not liking that 
kind of diet, followed my appetite, and did eat meats pleasing 
to my taste ; and when I felt inward heats, drank delightful 
wines, and that in great quantity ; telling ray physicians 
nothing thereof, as is the custom of sick people. But after 
I had resolved to follow temperance and reason, and saw 
that it was no hard thing to do so, but the proper duty of 
man, I so addicted myself to this course of life, that I never 
went a foot out of the way. Upon this I found, within a 
few days, that I was exceedingly helped, and by continuance 



292 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS. 

thereof, within less than one year (although it may seem to 
some incredible), I was perfectly cured of all my infirmities. 

Being now sound and well, I began to consider the force 
of temperance, and to think thus with myself : If temper- 
ance had so much power as to bring me health, how much 
more to preserve it ? "Wherefore I began to search out most 
diligently what meats were agreeable unto me, and what 
disagreeable : and I purposed to try, whether those that 
pleased my taste brought me commodity or discommodity ; 
and whether that proverb, wherewith gluttons used to de- 
fend themselves — to wit. That which savours is good and 
nourisheth— be consonant to truth. This upon trial I found 
most false : for strong and very cool wines pleased my taste 
best, as also melons, and other fruit ; in like manner, raw 
lettuce, fish, pork, sausages, pulse, and cake and piecrust, 
and the like : and yet all these I found hurtful. 

Therefore, trusting on experience, I forsook all these kind 
of meats and drinks, and chose that wine that fitted my 
stomach, and in such measure as easily might be digested : 
above all, taking care never to rise with a full stoDiach, but 
so as I might well both eat and drink more. By this means, 
within less than a year I was not only freed from all those 
evils which had so long beset me, and were almost become 
incurable; but also afterwards I fell not into that yearly 
disease, whereinto I was wont, when I pleased my sense and 
appetite. Which benefits also still continue ; because from 
the time that I was made whole, I never since departed from 
my settled coiurse of sobriety, whose admirable power causeth 
that the meat and drink that is taken in fit measm-e, gives 
true strength to the body, all superfluities passing away 
without difiiculty, and no ill humoiu"S being engendered in 
the body. 

Yet with this diet I avoided other hurtful things also, as 
too much heat and cold, weariness, watching, ill air, over- 
much use of the benefit of marriage. For although the 
power of health consists most in the proportion of meat and 
drink, yet these forenamed things have also their force. I 
preserved me also, as much as I could, from hatred anj 



A TREATISU OF T?EMPERANCB AND SOBRIETY. 



293 



melancholy, and other perturbations of the mind, which 
have a great power over our constitutions. Yet could I not 
so avoid all these but that now and then I fell into them, 
which gained me this experience, that I perceived that they 
had no great power to hurt those bodies which were kept in 
good order by moderate diet : so that I can truly say, that 
they who in these two things that enter in at the mouth 
keep a fit proportion, shall receive little hurt from other 
excesses. 

This Galen confirms, when he says, that moderate heats 
and colds, and winds and labours, did little hurt him, be- 
cause in his meats and drinks he kept a due moderation, 
and therefore never was sick by any of these inconveniences, 
except it were for one day only. But mine own experience 
confirmeth this more, as all that know me can testify : for 
having endured many heats and colds, and other like dis- 
commodities of the body and troubles of the mind, all these 
did hurt me little, whereas they hurt them very much who 
live intemperately. For when my brother and others of my 
kindred saw some great powerful men pick quarrels against 
me, fearing lest I should be overthrown, they were possessed 
with a deep melancholy (a thing usual to disorderly lives), 
which iucreased so much in them, that it brought them to a 
sudden end ; but I, whom that matter ought to have affected 
most, received no inconvenience thereby, because that humour 
abounded not in me. 

Nay, I began to persuade myself, that this suit and con- 
tention was raised by the Divine Providence, that I might 
know what great power a sober and temperate life hath over 
our bodies and mind, and that at length I should be a 
conqueror ; as also a little after it came to pass: for in the 
end I got the victory, to my great honour and no less profit ; 
whereupon also I joyed exceedingly, which excess of joy 
neither could do me any hurt : by which it is manifest, that 
neither melancholy nor any other passion can hurt a tem- 
perate life. 

Moreover, I say, that even bruises, and squats, and falls, 
which often kill others, can bring little grief or hurt to those 



294 herbeht's prose works. 

that are temperate. This I found by experience wlien I was 
seventy years old ; for riding in a coach in a great haste, 
it happened that the coach was overturned, and then was 
dragged for a good space by the fury of the horses, whereby 
my head and whole body was sore hurt, and also one of my 
arms and legs put out of joint. Being carried home, Vv'hen 
the physicians saw in what case I was, they concluded that 
I Avould die within three days ; nevertheless, at a venture, 
two remedies might be used, letting of blood and purging, 
that the store of humours, and inflammation and fever (which 
was certainly expected), might be hindered. 

But I, considering what an orderly life I had led for many 
years together, which must needs so temper the humours of 
the body that they could not be much troubled, or make a 
great concourse, refused both remedies, and only commanded 
that my arm and leg should be set, and my Avhole body 
anointed with oil ; and so without other remedy or incon- 
venience I recovered, which seemed as a miracle to the 
physicians ; whence I conclude, that they that live a tem- 
perate life can receive little hurt from other inconveniences. 

But my experience taught me another thing also — to wit, 
that an orderly and regular life can hardly be altered with- 
out exceeding great danger. 

About four year since, I was led, by the advice of 
physicians, and the daily importunity of my friends, to add 
something to my usual stint and measure. Divers reasons 
tJiey brought, as that old age could not be sustained with so 
little meat and drink ; which yet needs not only to be sus- 
tained but also to gather strength, which could not be but 
by meat and drink. On the other side, I argued that nature 
was contented with a little, and tliat I had for many years 
continued in good health with that little measure ; that 
custom was turned into nature, and therefore it was agree- 
able to reason, that my years increasing and strength de- 
creasing, my stint of meat and drink should be diminished 
rather than increased, that the patient might be proportion- 
able to the agent, and especially since the power of my 
stomach every day decreased. To this agTeed two Italian 



A TREATISE OF TEMPERANCE AND SOBRIETY. 295 

proverbs, the one whereof was,* He that will eat much, let 
him eat little ; because by eating little he prolongs his life. 
The other proverb was,t The meat which remaineth profits 
more than that which is eaten ; by which it is intimated, 
that the hurt of too much meat is greater than the commodity 
of meat taken in a moderate proportion. 

But all these things could not defend me against their im- 
portunities. Therefore, to avoid obstinacy and gratify my 
friends, at length I yielded, and permitted the quantity of 
meat to be increased, yet but two ounces only ; for whereas 
before, the measure of my whole day's meat, viz. of my bread, 
and eggs, and tiesh, and broth, was twelve ounces exactly 
weighed, I increased it to the quantity of two ounces more ; 
and the measure of my drink, which before was fourteen 
ounces, I made now sixteen. 

This addition, after ten days, wrought so much upon me, 
that of a cheerful and meny man I became melancholy and 
choleric, so that all things were troublesome to me ; neither 
did I know well what I did or said. On the twelfth day a 
pain of the side took me, which held me two and twenty 
hours. Upon the neck of it came a terrible fever, which 
continued thirty-five days and nights, although after the 
fifteenth day it grew less and less ; besides all this I could 
not sleep, no, not a quarter of an hour, whereupon all gave 
me up for dead. 

Nevertheless I, by the gi'ace of God, cured myself only 
with returning to my former course of diet, although I was 
now seventy-eight years old, and my body spent with extreme 
leanness, and the season of the year was winter, and most 
cold air ; and I am confident that, under God, nothing holp 
me but that exact rule which I had so long continued ; ia 
all which time I felt no grief, save now and then a little in- 
disposition for a day or two. 

* Maiigiera piu chi manco mangia. Ed e' contiaiio, 
Chi piu raangia, manco mangia. II senso e 
Poco Vive clii trodpo sparecliia. 

t Fa piu pro quel' che si lafcia ful' tondc, cho 
Quel' che si mette nel venti e. 



296 Herbert's prose works. 

For the temperance of so many years spent all ill humours, 
and suffered not any neAv of that kind to arise, neither the 
good humours to be corrupted or contract any ill quality, as 
usually happens in old men's bodies, which live without rule j 
for there is no malignity of old age in the humours of my 
body, which commonly kills men ; and that new one which I 
contracted by breaking my diet, although it was a sore evil, 
yet had no power to kill me. 

By this it may clearly be perceived how great is the power 
of order and disorder; whereof the one kept me well for 
many years, the other, though it was but a little excess, in 
a few days had so soon overthrown me. If the world consist 
of order, if our corporal life depend on the harmony of 
humours and elements, it is no wonder that order should 
preserve, and disorder destroy. Order makes arts easy and 
armies victorious, and retains and confirms kingdoms, cities, 
and families in peace. Whence I conchide, that an orderly 
life is the most sure way and ground of health and long days, 
and the true and only medicine of many diseases. 

Neither can any man deny this who will narrowly consider 
it. Hence it comes, that a physician, when he cometh to 
visit his patient, prescribes this physic first, that he use a 
moderate diet ; and when he hath cured him, commends this 
also to him, if he will live in health. Neither is it to be 
doubted but that he shall ever after live free from diseases, 
if he will keep such a course of life, because this will cut off 
all causes of diseases, so that he shall need neither physic 
nor physician : yea, if he will give his mind to those things 
which he should, he will prove himself a physician, and that 
a very complete one ; for indeed no man can be a perfect 
physician to another, but to himself only. The reason 
whereof is this : Every one by long experience may know 
the qualities of his own nature, and Avhat hidden properties 
it hath, what meat and drink agrees best with it; "vvliich 
things in othei's cannot be kno^vn without such observation 
as is not easily to be made upon others, especially since there 
is a greater diversity of tempers than of fiices. Who would 
believe that old wine should hiu't my stomach, and new 



A TREATISE OF TEMPERANCE AND SOBRIETY. 



297 



should help it, or that cinnamon should heat me more than 
pepper ? What physician could have discovered these hidden 
qualities to me, if I had not found them out by long experi- 
ence ? Wherefore one to another cannot be a perfect physi- 
cian. Whereupon I conclude, since none can have a better 
physician than himself, nor better physic than a temperate 
life, temperance by all means is to be embraced, 

Nevertheless, I deny not but that physicians are necessary, 
and greatly to be esteemed for the knowing and curing of 
diseases, into which they often fall who live disorderly : for 
if a friend who visits thee in thy sickness, and only comforts 
and condoles, doth perform an acceptable thing to thee, how 
much more dearly should a physician be esteemed, who not 
only as a friend doth visit thee, but help thee ! 

But that a man may preserve himself in health, I advise, 
that instead of a physician a regular life is to be embraced, 
which, as is manifest by experience, is a natural physic 
most agreeable to us, and also doth preserve even ill tempers 
in good health, and procure that they prolong their life even 
to a hundred years and more, and that at length they shut 
up their days like a lamp, only by a pure consumption of the 
radical moisture, without grief or perturbation of humours. 
Many have thought that this could be done hjaurumpotabile, 
or the philosopher's stone, sought of many, and found of few ; 
but surely there is no such matter, if temperance be wanting. 

But sensual men (as most are), desiring to satisfy their 
appetite and pamper their belly, although they see them- 
selves ill handled by their intemperance, yet shun a sober 
life ; because they say it is better to please the appetite 
(though they live ten years less than otherwise they should 
do) than always to live under bit and bridle. But they con- 
sider not of how great moment ten years are in mature age, 
wherein wisdom and all kind of virtues is most vigorous ; 
wliich, but in that age, can hardly be perfected. And that 
I may say nothing of other things, are not almost all the 
learned books that we have written by their authors in that 
age, and those ten years which they set at nought in regard 
of their belly ? 



298 Herbert's prose works. 

Besides, these belly-gods say that an orderly life is so hard 
a thing that it cannot be kept. To this I answer that Galen 
kept it, and held it for tlie best physic ; so did Plato also, 
and Isocrates and Tully, and many others of the ancients ; 
and in our age, Paul the Third, and Cardinal Bembo, who 
therefore lived so long ; and among our Dukes, Laudus and 
Donatus, and many others of inferior condition, not only in 
the city, but also in villages and hamlets. 

Wherefore, since many have observed a regular life, both 
of old times and later years, it is no such thing which may 
not be performed ; especially since in observing it there needs 
not many and curious things, but only tbat a man should 
begin, and by little and little accustom himself unto it. 

Neither doth it hinder, that Plato says, that they who are 
employed in tlie commonwealth cannot live regularly, because 
they must often endure heats, and colds, and winds, and 
showers, and divers labours, which suit not with an orderly 
life : for I answer, that those inconveniences are of no great 
moment (as I showed before) if a man be temperate in meat 
and drink, which is both easy for commonweal's men, and 
very convenient, both that they may preserve themselves from 
diseases, which hinder public employment ; as also that their 
mind, in all things wherein they deal, may be more lively 
and vigorous. 

But some may say, he which lives a regular life, eating 
always light meats and in a little quantity, what diet shall 
he use in diseases, which, being in health, he hath antici- 
pated ? I answer first, Nature, which endeavours to pre- 
serve a man as much as she can, teacheth us how to govern 
ourselves in sickness : for suddenly it takes away our appe- 
tite, so that we can eat but a very little, wherewith she is 
very well contented ; so that a sick man, whether he hath 
lived heretofore orderly or disorderly, when he is sick, ought 
not to eat but such meats as are agi-eeable to his disease, and 
that in much smaller quantity than when he was well. For 
if he should keep his former proportion, nature, w-hich is 
already burdened with a disease, would be wholly oppressed. 
Secondly, I answer better, that he which lives a temperate 



A TREATISE OP TEMPERANCE AND SOBRIETY. 



299 



life cannot fall into diseases, and but very seldom into indis- 
positions, because temperance takes away the causes of 
diseases ; and the cause being taken away, there is no place 
for the effect. 

Wherefore, since an orderly life is so profitable, so virtuous, 
so decent, and so holy, it is worthy by all means to be 
embraced ; especially since it is easy and most agreeable to 
the nature of man. No man that foUoAvs it is bound to eat 
and drink so little as I : no man is forbidden to eat fruit or 
fish, which I eat not : for 1 eat little, because a little suf- 
ficeth my weak stomach ; and I abstain from fruit and fish, 
and the like, because they hurt me. But they who find 
benefit in these meats may, yea ought to use them ; yet all 
must needs take heed lest they take a greater quantity of any 
meat or drink (though most agreeable to them) than their 
stomach can easily digest : so that he which is offended with 
no kind of meat and drink, hath the quantity, and not the 
quality for his rule, which is very easy to be observed. 

Let no man here object unto me, that there are many who, 
though they live disorderly, yet continue in health to their 
lives' end : because since this is at the best but micertain, 
dangerous, and very rare, the presuming upon it ought not 
to lead us to a disorderly life. 

It is not the part of a wise man to expose himself to so 
many dangers of diseases and death, only upon a hope of a 
happy issue, which yet befalls very few. An old m.an of an 
ill constitution, but living orderly, is more sure of his life 
than the most strong young man who lives disorderly. 

But some, too much given to appetite, object, that a long 
life is no such desirable thing, because that after one is once 
sixty-five years old, all the time we live after is rather death 
than life : but these err greatly, as I will sliow by myself re- 
counting the delights and pleasures in this age of eighty- 
three, which now I take, and which are such as that men 
generally account me happy. 

I am continually in health, and I am so nimble, that I 
can easily get on horseback without the advantage of the 
ground, and sometimes I go up high stairs and hills on foot. 



300 HERBERT S PROSE -WORKS. 

Then, I am ever cheerful, merry, and well-contented, free 
from all troubles and troublesome thoughts ; in whose place 
joy and peace have taken up their standing in my heart. 1 
am not weary of life, which I pass with great delight. I confer 
often with worthy men, excelling in wit, learning, behaviour, 
and other virtues. When I cannot have their company, I 
give myself to the reading of some learned book, and after- 
wards to writing ; making it my aim in ail things, how I 
may help others to the furthest of my power. 

All these things I do at my ease, and at fit seasons, and 
in mine own houses ; which, besides that they are in the 
fairest place of this learned city of Padua, are very beautiful 
and convenient above most in this age, being so built by me, 
according to the rules of architecture, that they are cool in 
summer and warm in winter. 

I enjoy also my gardens, and those divers, parted with 
rills of running water, which truly is very delightful. Some- 
times of the year I enjoy the pleasure of the Eugenean hills, 
where also I have fountains and gardens, and a very con- 
venient house. At other times I repair to a village of mine, 
seated in the valley ; which is therefore very pleasant, because 
many ways thither are so ordered, that they all meet, and end 
in a fair plot of ground ; in the midst whereof is a church suit- 
able to the condition of the place. This place is washed with 
the river Brenta ; on both sides whereof are great and fruitful 
fields, well manured and adorned mth many habitations. 
In former time it was not so, because the place was moorish 
and unhealthy, fitter for beasts than men. But I drained 
the ground, and made the air good : whereupon men flocked 
thither and built houses with happy success. By this means 
the place is come to that perfection Ave now see it is ; so that 
I can truly say, that I have both given God a temple, and 
men to worship him in it : the memory whereof is exceeding 
delightful to me. 

Sometimes I ride to some of the neighbour cities, that I 
may enjoy the sight and the communication of my friends, 
as also of excellent artificers in architecture, painting, stone- 
cutting, music, and husbandry, whereof in this age there ia 



A TREATISE OF TEMPERANCE AND SOBRIETY. 301 

great plenty. I view their pieces, I compare them with those 
of antiquity ; and ever I learn somewhat which is worthy of 
my knowledge. I survey palaces, gardens, and antiquities, 
public fabrics, temples, and fortifications; neither omit I 
anything that may either teach or delight me. I am much 
pleased also, in my travels, with the beauty of situation. 
Neither is this my pleasure made less by the decaying dul- 
ness of my senses, which are all in their perfect vigour, but 
especially my taste ; so that any simple fare is more savoury 
to me now than heretofore, when I was given to disorder and 
all the delights that could be. 

To change my bed, troubles me not; I sleep well and 
quietly anywhere, and my dreams are fair and pleasant. 
But this chiefly delights me, that my advice hath taken effect 
in the reducing of many rude and untoiled places in my 
country, to cultivation and good husbandry. I was one of 
those that was deputed for the managing of that work, and 
abode in those fenny places two whole months in the heat of 
summer (which in Italy is very great), receiving not any 
hui't or inconvenience thereby : so great is the power and 
efficacy of that temperance which ever accompanied me. 

These are the delights and solaces of my old age, which is 
altogether to be preferred before others' youth : because that 
by temperance and the grace of God I feel not those pertur- 
bations of body and mind, wherewith infinite both young 
and old are afflicted. 

Moreover, by this also in what estate I am may be dis- 
covered, because at these years (viz. eighty-three) I have 
made a most pleasant comedy, full of honest wit and merri- 
ment : which kind of poems useth to be the child of youth, 
which it most suits withal for variety and pleasantness ; as 
a tragedy with old age, by reason of the sad events which it 
contains. And if a Greek poet of old was praised, that at 
the age of seventy-three years he writ a tragedy, why snouid 
I be accounted less happy, or less myself, who being ten years 
older, have made a comedy 'I 

Now lest there should be any delight wanting to my old 
age, I daily behold a kind of immortality in the succession 



302 



Herbert's prose works. 



of my posterity. For Avhen I come home, I find eleven 
grand- children of mine, al] the sons of one father and mother, 
all in perfect health ; all, as far as I can conjecture, very apt 
and well given both for learning and behaviour. I am de- 
lighted with their music and fashion, and I myself also sing 
often ; because I have now a clearer voice than ever I had in 
my life. 

By which it is evident, that the life which I live at this 
age is not a dead, dumpish, and sour life, but cheerful, 
lively, and pleasant : neither if I had my wish, would I 
change age and constitution with tliem who follow their 
youthful appetites, although they be of a most strong tem- 
per : because such are daily exposed to a thousand dangers 
and deaths, as daily experience sheweth, and I also, when I 
was a young man, too \Yell found. I know how inconsiderate 
that age is, and, though subject to death, yet continually 
afraid of it ; for death to all young men is a terrible thing, 
as also to those that live in sin, and follow their appetites ; 
whereas I by the experience of so many years have learned 
to give way to reason : whence it seems to me, not only a 
'shameful thing to fear that which cannot be avoided ; but 
also I hope, when I shall come to that point, I shall find no 
little comfort in the favour of Jesus Christ. Yet I am sure 
that my end is far from me : for I know that (setting casual- 
ties aside) I shall not die but by a pure resolution : because 
that by the regularity of my life I have shut out death all 
other ways ; and that is a fair and desirable death, which 
nature brings by Avay of resolution. 

Since, therefore, a temperate life is so happy and pleasant 
a thing, what remains, but that I sliould Avish all Avho have 
the care of themselves, to embrace it Avith open arms ? 

Many things more might be said in commendation hereof : 
hut lest in anything I forsake that temperance which I have 
tbuud so good, I here make an end. 



ORATION. 303 



THE ORATION OF MASTER GEORGE HERBERT, 

Orator of the University of Cambridge, 'when the Ambassadors 

I were made Masters of Arts. 27th Feb. 1622. 

Most Excellent and most Magnificent Lords, 
.FTER many singular honours, remarkable commands, 
t noble ambassages, and other titles most pleasing, as 
•well to us remembering as to you deserving them, we at last 
galute you masters of arts — yea, indeed of all, both courtly, 
military, academical — the accession of which new title to 
your Excellencies, all the Muses and Graces congratulate ; 
I entreating that you would awhile lay aside those warlike 
looks, with which you used to conquer your enemies, and 
assume more mild and gracious aspects ; and we also, putting 
oflf that countenance and gravity by which we we]l know 
how to convince the stern and more austere sort of philo- 
sophy, for respect to you, embrace all that is cheerful, joyous, 
; pleasing. For what could have happened more pleasing to 
' us, than the access of the officers of the Catholic King ? 
\ whose exceeding glory is equally round with the world itself : 
i who tying, as with a knot, both Indies to his Spain, knows 
■ no limits of his praise, no, not, as in past ages, those pillars 
I of Hercules. Long since, all we and our whole kingdom 
I exult with joy, to be united with that blood which useth to 
infuse so great and worthy spiiits. And that which first 
deserveth our observation, to the end we might the more by 
love grow on, both the Spanish and British nation serve and 
I worship James. James is the protecting saint unto us both, 
' that you may well conceive your Excellencies to be more dear 
unto us, in that you are of the same order and habit of 
which we all in this kingdom glory to be. The praises also 
and virtues of the most renowned Princess Isabel, passing 
daily our neighbouring sea, wondrously sound through all 
Dur coasts and ears. And necessarily must the felicity of so 
^eat princes redound also to those servants, in the choice of 
jlvhom their judgment doth even now appear. Wherefore 
I most excellent, most illustrious lords, since you are so great 



304 HERBERT S PROSE WORKS, 



both in your princes and yourselves, we justly fear that 
there is nothing here answerable to the gi'eatness of youi 
presence. For amongst us, what glorious show is there^ 
either of garments or of anything else? what splendour? 
surely, since there is a twofold brightness which dazzlethi 
the eyes of men, we have as much failed as your Excellencies 
do excel in both. But yet the arts in quietness and silence 
here are reverenced : here is tranquillity, repose, peace with 
all but bookworms, perpetual poverty, but when your Ex- 
cellencies appear. Yet do not ye contemn these our slight 
glories, which we raise from books, and painful industry ; 
how could you be like great Alexander, unless history de- 
livered his actions ? Fame is sown in this age, that it may 
be reaped in the following ; let the first be the care of your 
Excellencies ; we for your gracious acceptance of these poor I 
duties wish, and vow unto you of the last a plenteous harvest. ' 



PREFACE AND NOTES TO THE DIVINE CON- ' 
SIDERATIONS OF JOHN VALDESSO. 

PRINTED AT CAMBRIDGE 1646. 

[The " Considerations " of John Valdesso, a Spanish gentleman, 
were translated by Nicholas Ferrar, who had become acquainted 
with the author at the court of Charles "V. " Before it was 
made public," says Walton, "he sent it to be examined and 
censured by Mr Plerbert," who read and returned it " with 
many marginal notes, as they be now printed with it ; and with 
them Mr Herbert's affectionate letter to Mr Ferrar."] 

My dear and deserving brother, Your Valdesso I now re- 
turn with many thanks and some notes, in which, perhaps, 
you will discover some care which I forbear not in the midst 
of my griefs : first, for your sake, because I would do nothing 
negligently that you commit unto me: secondly, for the 
author's sake, whom I have conceived to have been a true 
servant of God, and to such, and all that is theirs, I owe I 
diligence : thirdly, for the Church's sake, to whom by print- 
ing it, I would have you consecrate it. You owe the Church 



NOTES TO THE DIVINE CONSIDERATIONS. 305 

I debt, and God hath put this into your hands (as he sent 

-he fish with money to Saint Peter) to discharge it ; happily 

dso with this (as his thoughts are fruitful), intending the 

■'lonour of his servant the author, who being obscured in his 

wn country, he would have to flourish in this land of light 

|nd region of the Gospel, among his chosen. It is true there 

■re some things which I like not in him, as my fragments 

'•'ill express, when you read them ; nevertheless I wish you 

y all means to publish it, for these three eminent things 

bservable therein : first, that God in the midst of Popery 

lould open the eyes of one to understand and express so 

■early and excellently the intent of the Gospel, in the accep- 

•ition of Christ's righteousness (as he sheweih through all 

!is Considerations), a thing strangely buried and darkened by 

he adversaries and their great stumbling-block. Secondly, 

he great honour and reverence which he everywhere bears 

,'wards our dear Master and Lord, concluding every Con- 

Ideration almost with his holy Name, and setting his merit 

rth so piously ; for which I do so love him, that were there 

)thing else I would print it, that with it the honour of my 

'3rd might be published. Thirdly, the many pious rules of 

dering our life, about mortification, and observation of 

.ad's kingdom within us, and the working thereof, of which 

|i was a very diligent observer. These three things are very 

linent in the author, and overweigh the defects, as I cou- 

^I'ive, towards the publishing thereof. 

.^'rom Bemerton, near Salisbury, 
September 29, 1632. 

NOTES TO THE DIVINE CONSIDERATIONS. 

i Page 33. 

'JHe often useth this manner of speech, believing by re- 
ation, whereby I understand he meaneth only the eftec- 

' il operation or illumination of the Holy Spirit, testifying 

]l applying the revealed truth of the Gospel, and not any 
vate enthusiasms or revelations: as if he should say, a 

^leral apprehension or assent to the promises of the Gospel, 

u 

11 



3U6 Herbert's prose works^ ; 

by hearsay or relation from others, is not that which filleth ) 
the heart with joy and peace in believing, but the Spirit' si 
bearing witness with our spirit, revealing and applying the 
general promises to every one in particular, with such sin-* 
cerity and efficacy, that it makes him godly, righteous, and. 
sober all his life long. This I call believing by revelation,* 
and not by relation. 

Page 107. 

I much mislike the comparison of images and Holy Scrip- 
tures, as if they were both but alphabets, and after a time 
to be left. The Holy Scriptures have not only an elementary 
use, but a use of perfection ; neither can they ever be ex- 
hausted (as pictures may be by a plenary circumspection), 
but still, even to the most learned and perfect in them, there 
is somewhat to be learned more ; therefore David desireth 
God, in the 119th Psalm, to open his eyes, that he might 
see the wondrous things of his law, and that he would make |ii 
them his study ; although, by other words of the same psalm, 
it is evident that he was not meanly conversant in them. 
Indeed, he that shall so attend to the back of the letter as 
to neglect the consideration of God's work in his heart 
through the Word, doth amiss ; both are to be done: thejl 
Scriptures still used, and God's work within us still observed, I 
who works by his Word, and ever in the reading of it. As 
for that text. They shall be all taught of God, it being 
Scripture, cannot be spoken to the disparagement of Scrip- 
ture ; but the meaning is this, that God in the days of the j^ 
Gospel will not give an outward law of ceremonies as of old,' ' 
but such a one as shall still have the assistance of the Ploly 
Spirit applying it to our hearts, and ever outrunning the; J 
teacher, as "it did when Peter taught Cornelius. There the 1^ 
case is plain ; Cornelius had revelation, yet Peter was to be *^ 
sent for: and those that have inspirations must still use''« 
Peter, God's word : if we make another sense of the text, wd ^ 
shall overthrow all means save catechising, and set up en-|w 
thusiasms. 



i\\ 



IfOTES TO THE DIVINE CONSIDERATIONS. 307 

In the Scriptures are 
Doctrines : these ever teach more and more. - 
Promises : these ever comfort more and more. 

(Rom. XV. 4.) 

Page 109. 

The doctrine of this Consideration cleareth that of the 
ormer; for as the servant leaves not the letter when he 
Lath read it, but keeps it by him, and reads it again and 
gain, and the more the promise is delayed the more he 
eads it, and fortifies himself with it, so are we to do with 
ihe Scriptures, and this is the use of the promises of the 
Scriptures. But the use of the doctrinal part is more, in 
sgard it presents us not with the same thing only when it is 
j3ad, as the promises do, but enlightens us with new con- 
i'iderations the more we read it. Much more might be said, 
,ut this sufficeth. He himself allows it for a holy con- 
versation and refreshment in the 32d consideration ; and 
jmongst all divine and spiritual exercises and duties, he 
^ameth the reading and meditation of Holy Scripture for 
, le first and principal, as Consid. 47, and others ; so that it 
i plain the author had a very reverend esteem of the Holy 
t\ cripture, especially considering the time and place where 
e lived. 

Page 122. 

All the discourse from this place to the end of the chapter 

jay seem strange, but it is suitable to what the author holds 

isewhere ; for he maintains that it is faith and infidelity that 

iiall judge us now since the Gospel, and that no other sin 

"r virtue hath anything to do with us ; if we believe, no sin 

lall hurt us ; if we believe not, no virtue shall help us. 

herefore he saith here, we shall not be punished for evil 

jing, nor rewarded for well doing or living, for all the point 

es in believing or not believing. And with this exposition 

le chapter is clear enough ; but the truth of the doctrine 

Duld be examined, however it may pass for his opinion, in 

le Church of God there is one fundamental, but else variety 



808 Herbert's prose works. 

The author's good meaning in this will better appear by his 
9Sth Consideration of faith and good works. 



J : 



Page 155. 
He meaneth (I suppose) that a man presume not to merit, 
that is, to oblige God, or justify himself before God, by any 
acts or exercises of religion ; but that he ought to pray God, 
affectionately and fervently, to send him the light of his 
Spirit, which may be unto him as the sun to a traveller in I 
his journey; he in the meanwhile applying himself to the 
unquestioned duties of true piety and sincere religion, such 
as are prayer, fasting, alms-deeds, &c., after the example of 
devout Cornelius. Or thus : There are two sorts of acts in 
religion, acts of humiliation and acts of confidence and joy: 
the person here described to be in the dark ought to use the 
first, and to forbear the second. Of the first sort are repent- 
ance, prayers, fasting, alms, mortifications, &c. ; of the 
second, receiving of the communion, praises, psalms, &c. 
These in divers cases ought, and were of old forborne for a 
time. 



Page 174. 
In indifferent things there is room for motions, and ex- 
pecting of them ; but in things good, as to relieve my neigh- 
bour, God hath already revealed his will about it ; therefore 
we ought to proceed, except there be a restraining motion 
(as St Paul had when he would have preached in Asia). And 
I conceive that restraining motions are much more frequent jifj 
to the godly than inviting motions, because the Scripture 
invites enough, for it invites us to all good. According to 4 
that singular place (Phil. iv. 8), a man is to embrace all good ; a^ 
but because he cannot do all, God often chooseth which he !i(j 
shall do, and that by restraining him from what he would p 
not have him do. , i^ 



Page 177. 
This doctrine, howsoever it is true in substance, yet it 
reqiiireth discreet and wary explaining. 



NOTES TO THE PIYI^E CO^'STPERATIONS. 309 



Page 199. 
By renouncing the help of human learning in the studying 
to understand Holy Scripture, he meaneth tJiat -n^e should 
not use it as the only or as the principal means, because the 
lanointing which we have received and abideth in us teacheth 
'us (1 John ii. 27), 

I Page 217. 

' This chapter is considerable. The intent of it, that the 
•world pierceth not only godly men's actions no more than 
■God's, is in some sort true, because they are spiritually dis- 
'cerned (1 Cor. ii. 14). So likewise are the godly in some 
sort exempt from laws, for the law is not made for a right- 
eous man (1 Tim. i. 9). But when he enlargeth he goes too 
far : for, first, concerning Abraham and Sarah, I ever took 
that for a weakness in the great patriarch, and that the 
best of God's servants should have weaknesses is no way 
'repugnant to the way of God's Spirit in them, or to the 
Scriptures, or to themselves, being still men, though godly 
men. Nay, they are purposely recorded in Holy Writ. 
Wherefore, as David's adultery cannot be excused, so need 
iiot Abraham's equivocation, nor Paul's neither, Avhen he 
iprofessed himself a Pharisee, which strictly he was not, 
though in the point of resurrection he agreed with them and 
hey with him. The reviling also of Ananias seems, by his 
bwn recalling, an oversight ; yet I remember the Father 
prbids us to judge of the doubtful actions of saints in Scrip- 
•^;ure, which is a modest admonition. But it is one thing not 
bo judge, another to defend them. Secondly, when he useth 
j;he v,'OYdijurisdiction, allowing no jurisdiction over the godly, 
r.his cannot stand, and it is ill doctrine in a commonwealth. 
'Che godly are punishable as others when they do amiss, and 
hey are to be judged according to the outward fact, unless 
jfc be evident to others as well as to themselves that God 
laoved them ; for otherwise any malefactor may pretend 
notions, which is insufferable in a commonwealth. Neither 
1,0 I doubt but if Abraham had lived in our kingdom under 



i- 



310 Herbert's prose works. 



government, and had killed his son Isaac, but he might justly 
have been put to death for it by the magistrate, unless he>' 
could have made it appear that it was done by God's imme- 
diate precept. He had done justly, and yet had been pun- 
ished justly ; that is. In humanoforo, £c., secundum prce- 
sumptionem legalem: according to the common and legal 
proceedings among men. So may a war be just on both 
sides, and was just in the Canaanites and Israelites both 
How the godly are exempt from laws is a known point 
among divines ; but when he saj^s they are equally exempt 
with God, that is dangerous and too far. The best salve for , 
the whole chapter is to distinguish judgment. There is a 
judgment of authority (upon a fact), and there is a judgnient 
of the learned ; for as a magistrate judgeth in his tribunal, 
so a scholar judgeth in his study, and censureth this or that 5 
whence come so many books of several men's opinions ; per4 
haps he meant all of this latter, not of the former. Worldly 
learned men cannot judge spiritual men's actions ; but the 
magistrate may, and surely this the author meant by thi 
word jurisdiction, for so he useth the same word in Consi- 
deration 68 adjlnem. 

Page 220. 
The author doth still discover too slight a regard of the 
Scripture, as if it were but cmiaren's meat, whereas there is 
not only milk there, but strong meat also (Heb. v. 14) : things i 
hard to be understood (2 Pet. iii. 16) ; things needing great! 
consideration (Matt. xxiv. 15). Besides, he opposeth thel 
teaching of the Spirit to the teaching of Scripture which thei 
Holy Spirit wrote. Although the Holy Spirit apply the! 
Scripture, yet what the Scripture teacheth the Spirit teach-l 
eth; the Holy Spirit, indeed, sometime doubly teaching,} 
both in penning and in applying. I wonder how this opinion 
could befall so good a man as it seems Valdesso was, since 
the saints of God in all ages have ever held in so precious 
esteem the word of God, as their joy and crown, and their 
treasure on earth. Yet his own practice seems to confute 
his opinion ; for the most of his Considerations being grounded 



[ 



NOTES TO THE DIVINE CONSIDERATIONS. 311 

\ipon some text of Scripture, shows that he was continually 
c nversant in it, and not used it for a time only, and then 
cast it away, as he says, strangely. There is no more to be 
eaid of this chapter, especially of the fifth thing in it, but 
that this his opinion of the Scripture is insufferable. As for 
the text of St Peter (2 Pet. i. 19) which he makes the ground 
of this Consideration, building it all upon the word, " Until 
the day-star arise ;" it is nothing. How many places do the 
Fathers bring about "until" against the heretics who dis- 
puted against the virginity of the blessed virgin, out of the 
text (Matt. i. 25), where it is said, Joseph knew her not 
*' until" she had brought forth her firstborn son, as if after- 
wards he had known her ; and indeed, in common sense, if 
I bid a man stay in a place until I come, I do not then bid 
him go away, but rather stay longer, that I may speak with 
him or do something else when I come. So St Peter bidding 
the dispersed Hebrews attend to the Word till the day dawn, 
doth not bid them then cast away the Word, or leave it off ; 
but, however, he would have them attend to it till that time, 
and then afterward they will of themselves attend it without 
his exhortation. Nay, it is observable that in that very 
place he prefers the AVord before tlie sight of the transfigura- 
tion of Christ. So that the Word hath the precedence even 
of revelation and visions. 

Page 239. 
Divines hold that justifying faith and the faith of miracles 
are divers gifts, and of a different nature ; the one being 
gratia gratis data, the other gratia gratum faciens, this 
being given only to the godly, and the other sometimes to 
the wicked : yet doubtless the best faith in us is defective, 
and arrives not to the point it should, which if it did, it 
would do more than it does. And miracle-working, as it 
may be severed from justifying faith, so it may be a fruit of 
it, and an exaltation (1 John v. 14). 

Page 247. 
Though this were the author's opinion, yet the truth of it 



I 312 HERBERT S PROSE -VTORKS. 

would be examined. The 98th Consideration, about being 
justified by faith or by good works, or condemned for unbelief 
or evil works, make plain the author's meaning. 

, Page 270. 

By the saints of the world he everywhere understands the 
cunning hypocrite, who by the world is counted a very saint 
for his outward show of holiness ; and we meet with two 
sorts of these saints of the world ; one whose holiness con- 
sists in a few ceremonies and superstitious observations ; the 

I others in a zeal against these, and in a strict performance of 
a few cheap and easy duties of religion with no less super- 
stition ; both of them having forms or vizors of godliness, but 

I denying the power thereof. 

j Page 354. 

I Though this be the author's opinion, yet the truth of it 
I would be examined. The 98th Consideration, about being 
j justified by faith or by good works, or condemned for unbelief 

or evil works, make plain the author's meaning. 
i By Hebrew piety he meaneth not the very ceremonies of . 
I the Jews, which no Christian observes now, but an analo- 
gate observation of ecclesiastical and canonical laws super- 
induced to the Scriptures, like to that of the Jews, which 
they added to their divine law. This being well weighed will 
make the Consideration easy and very observable : for at 
least some of the Papists are come now to what the Pharisees 
were come to in om^ Savioui-'s time. 

Page 355. 
j This is true only of the Popish cases of conscience, which 
i depend almost wholly on their canon law and decretals, 
! knots of their own tying and untying ; but there are other 
I cases of conscience, grounded on piety and morality, and the 
! difiiculty of applying their general rules to particular actions, 
which are a most noble study. 



POETICAL WOEKS 



OF 



REGINALD HEBE 11, 



V/ITH MEMOIR. 



MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBEE. 



Reginald Heber was born 21st April 1783, at Malpas, in 
the county of Chester. His early childhood was distin- 
guished hy mildness of disposition, obedience to parents, 
and consideration for friends. At the age of five, he could 
read the Bible with fluency ; at six, we find him mastering 
the Latin grammar. From a child he was inquisitive, 
always eager to obtain instruction, and never above asking 
the opinions of others ; but with a modesty of manner which 
at once presented his being thought intrusive, and ensured 
him the attention of those with whom he conversed. To 
this habit, persevered in through life, Heber ascribed the 
possession of much of the general knowledge by which he 
was distinguished. From boyhood he exhibite,d a singular 
self-control. It was a common saying among the servants 
in his father's household, that " Master Reginald " was 
never in a passion. From the day he knew his letters, 
reading was his principal amusement. His elder brother, 
to whose affectionate superintendence of his graver studies 
he justly considered himself much indebted, used to say, 
Reginald did more than read books — he devoured them. 
His memory, strong and tenacioiis, retained the substance 
of almost all he read; and such passages as particularly 
fascinated him were remembered through life with verbal 
accuracy. At eight years of age, young Heber was placed 
by his father at the grammar-school of Whitchurch, under 



MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 



Dr Kent. Having passed witli credit through the cnrri 
culum of the grammar-school, in 1796 he was placed under 
the care of Mr Bristow, a clergyman who took private 
pupils at Meadow, in the neighbourhood of London. An 
account of his habits and pursuits at this period has been 
preserved by a class-fellow, from which we gather a toler- 
ably accurate conception of his intellect and character. The 
abstraction of mind into which he was apt to be seduced 
rendered him not so specially remarkable for quickness of 
apprehension as some whose wits waited more upon their 
will. His superiority was, however, manifested by his com- 
positions in prose and verse, especially in verse. Spenser 
was one of his favourite authors. "With the '"Faerie Queene" 
in his pocket he would sally forth on a long solitary ramble, 
while his comrades were occupied with the common sports 
of their ago. Constant cheerfulness and overflowing kind- 
ness of heart prevented this meditativeness from degene- 
rating into moroseness. In the long winter evenings, he 
was t]ie centre of attraction during the leisure hours of the 
school. A group of boys would then be frequently formed 
around him, whilst he narrated some chiA'alrous history, 
recited some ancient ballad, or told some wild tale of the 
forgotten ages. Like most youths of a poetical tempera- 
ment, Reginald Heber had little taste for the exact sciences. 
Poetry, not porisn>s, was his admiration. Even the ancient 
languages were studied more for the treasures they unlocked 
than from any special predilection for philological investi- 
gations. The sense of an author was eagerly grasped by 
him, but the mere scaffolding of learning he esteemed only 
as the means of arriving at that sense. At this early period, 
a reverence for everything sacred, and a remarkable purity 
of thought, were erninent features of his character. Though 
many of his schoolfellows were profane and licentious, their 
example had no influence upon Heber, his own exemplary 
conduct tending much to check the torrent of vice. 

At the time of Bonaparte's invasion of Egypt, ** The 
Battle of the Nile " was the subject of a school exercise. 



; 



MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 



Young Heber embodied his reflections on that event, so dis- 
astrous to Napoleon, in " The Prophecy of Ishmael," cer- 
tainly spirited verses for a school exercise, though lacking 
the weird power of the seer. During the summer holi- 
days, when Reginald was about fourteen, his mother missed 
her " Companion to the Altar." On inquiry being made he 
brought it to her, intimating that he had had it about three 
weeks, had spent many hours in reading it, and begged to 
be allowed to accompany her to the altar. 

In November 1800, Heber was entered at Brazennose 
College, Oxford. Of this college his elder brother was 
I then a fellow. His education having been until now pri- 
,vate, he came to the university under the disadvantage of 
( having an entirely new acquaintance to form. His abilities 
{ were yet known only to a few, but his conversational talents 
and taste for literature soon introduced him to a danger- 
j ously wide circle of friends. Evening parties were, how- 
jever, never allowed to abridge the hours of study. In his 
'first year at college he gained the university prize for Latin 
verso by his " Carmen Seculare.''' This poem, on the com- 
mencement of the new century, gave a bright promise of 
■the success his future academical career so well fulfilled. 
I At Oxford, those branches of learning Heber had most 
[neglected were cultivated with considerable assiduity. 
Though mathematics never became the rallying point of 
his studies, Euclid had now grown less irksome than in 
days of old. Increased devotion to the exact sciences had, 
however, no effect in chilling the ardour of his muse. In 
the spring of 1803, Reginald Heber wrote " Palestine," a 
prize poem. In its production he had the encouragement 
of Sir Walter Scott, then known only as the author of the 
" Border Minstrelsy." Sir Walter gave him strong hopes of 
success, — hopes the sagacity of which the result fully justi- 
'iSed. During the course of the composition of "Palestine," 
Sir Walter liappened one morning to brealcfast witli Heber. 
As was natural, in tlie circumstances, tlie poem was pro- 
duced and read. At that part where the building of the 



MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 



temple is described, Sir Walter remarked, " one striking 
circumstance has been forgotten : no tools ^vere used in 
its erection." Reginald retired from the breakfast table 
to a corner of the room, and wrote those lines, ^Yhich now 
form part of the poem : — 

"No ha-mmer fell, no ponderous axes rung; 
Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung. 
Majestic silence!" 

The effect of Heber's recitation of this poem in the magnifi- 
cent theatre of Oxford is thus recorded by an eloquent contri- 
butor to " Blackwood's Magazine," writing after an interval 
of nearly a quarter of a century from its recitation : — " None 
who heard Reginald Heber recite his ' Palestine ' will ever 
forget his appearance, so interesting and impressive. It 
was known that his old father was somewhere sitting among 
the crowded audience when his universally admired son 
ascended the rostrum ; and we have heard that the sudden 
thunder of applause which then arose so shook his frame, 
weak and wasted by long illness, that he never recovered 
it, and may be said to have died of the joy dearest to a 
parent's heart. Reginald Heber's recitation, like that of all 
poets whom we have heard recite, was altogether untram- 
melled by the critical laws of elocution, which wore not set 
at defiance, but either by the poet unknown or forgotten. 
There was a charm in his somewhat melancholy voice, that 
occasionally faltered, less from a feeling of the solemnity 
and even grandeur of the scene than from the deeply felt 
sanctity of the subject. As his voice grew bolder and more 
sonorous in the ' hush,' the audience felt that this was not 
the mere display of the skill and ingenuity of a clever 
youth, the accidental triumph of an accomplished versifier 
over his compeers, in the dexterity of scholarship (all that 
can generally be said of such exhibitions) ; but here was a 
true poet indeed, — not one only of bright promise, but of 
high a^liievement — one whose name was already written in 
the roll of the immortals. "When Heber returned from the 
theatre after this triumph — every hand stretched out to con- 



MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. Vll 



^atulate, and every voice raised to praise him — he with- 
irew from the domestic circle. His mother, impatient of 
his absence, on going to look for him, found him in the re 
[iirement of his closet, giving God thanks." 

Keturning to Malpas in 1803 for the long vacation, Eegi- 
aald Heher found the neighbourhood engaged in forming 
what the nation has so lately been re-engaged forming, 
'volunteer corps," to repel the tlireatened invasion. At 
:he request of a neighbour and friend of his father who had 
;hen just raised a body of infantry, Heber wrote at the 
:ea-table some stirring stanzas entitled " Honour its own 
Reward." 

In the year following his Oxford triumph, he was called 
to endure one of the heaviest afflictions of an affectionate 
son — the death of his excellent father, then in his seventy- 
sixth year. A glimpse of the last hours of this man of 
Grod will show the heavenly atmosphere of Heber's home. 
let is the son who thus describes the latter end of the 
'sire : — " "When at length all hopes were over, we knelt 
iround his bed, his wife and all his children, he blessed us, 
and over and over again raised his feeble voice to bid us 
ibe Christians, and to hold fast our faith. My mother was 
juite overwhelmed with grief and fatigue, having for six 
pveeks never taken off her clothes. He chid her gently for 
I sorrowing as without hope, and talked mtich of the Divine 
Rock on which his hope was founded. The next morning 
he expressed a wish to receive the sacrament, and bade me 
in the meantime read the prayer in the Liturgy for a person 
\xt the point of death. I, through my tears, made a blunder, 
ivhich he corrected from memory. He now expressed some 
impatience for the sacrament, saying he hoped -not to be 
ietained long. Our family partook together of the most 
solemn communion that we can ever expect to join in this 
world, to which, indeed, my father seemed scarcely to belong. 
k. smile sat on his pale countenance, and his eyes sparkled 
brighter than I ever saw them. From this time he spoke 
Dut little ; his lips moved, and his eyes were raised upwards. 



MEMOIR OP BISHOr HEBER. 



He blessed us again ; we kissed him, and found his lips and 
cheeks cold and breathless." 

From the death of the father we now return to the life 
of the son. We have already seen the brilliant success of 
his earlier university career ; it is gratifying to be able to 
Bay that career was equally splendid to its close. Some 
men enter the schools obscurft, and come out bright ; others 
enter bright, and come out obscure ; but Reginald Heber 
was a star whose lustre was as steady as it was clear. The 
year after he had taken his degree, he gained the uni- 
versity's Bachelor's Prize for the English prose essay. The 
subject was well suited to his peculiar power. " The Sense 
of Honour '* found in him a temperate and charitable Chris- 
tian advocate, who vindicated its high character as a great 
principle of morality, while showing its necessary subjec- 
tion to conscience and religion. College studies finished, 
Mr Heber, towards the middle of 1805, accompanied his 
friend Mr Jolm Thornton on a tour to the north of Europe, 
which was extended through Eussia, the Crimea, Hungary, 
Austria, Prussia, and Germany ; the war then raging having 
closed the rest of the Continent against English travellers. 
His journal of travel is intensely interesting ; but space 
precludes us from transferring any portion of it to our 
pages. Shortly after returning to England (1807), Mr 
Heber took orders, and was instituted by his brother to 
the family living of Hodnet in Shropshire. The spirit in 
which he entered upon the sacred office is thus expressed 
in a letter to his friend Mr Thornton : — " Pray for me, that 
I may have my eyes open to the truth, whatever it may be ; 
that no interest may warp me from it. God knows I have 
every motive of affection and emulati.m to animate me, and 
have no possible excuse for a failure in my duty." 

"While residing at Dresden in the summer of 1806, Mr 
Heber wrote the first lines of a poem under the title of 
"Europe." In 1809, "Europe" was published; though not 
an unfavourable exhibition of his powers, the moment of its 
appearance was rather uufortuiii-ite for its popularity. The 



1 



MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 



themes it touched gave greater scope for rhetoric than poetry. 
Almost simultaneously with the publication of this poem, 
Heber is busy procuring literary recruits for the staff of the 
"Quarterly Keview," then just established as a counterpoise 
to the supreme authority of the ** Edinburgh." To this Con- 
servative organ he became an occasional contributor. The 
aaildness and fairness with which he wrote, even of adver- 
saries of the most extreme character, was in singular contrast 
;vith the ferocity of Gifford. 

A few months subsequent to the publication of "Europe," 
^r Eeginald Heber married Amelia, youngest daughter of 
phipley, Dean of St Asaph, and grand-daughter of Jonathan 
■>hipley, Bishop of St Asaph. This lady proved a worthy 
;ielp-meet in every scene of his subsequent career. 
I After his marriage, Mr Eeginald Heber settled on his 
'ectory, entering unassisted on the cares of a large parish. 
;n order to devote himself more completely to his sacred 
j'ork, he withdrew almost altogether from the society by 
^hich he was courted. His parishioners found in him one 
who watched and wept, prayed and felt for all." Once, 
•hen a poor woman to whom he had given three shillings 
'^claimed, " The Lord reward you, and give you fourfold!" 
e said, "How unreasonable are the expectations of men! 
I his good woman's wish for me, which sounds so noble, 
-nounts but to twelve shillings, and we, when we give such 
pittance, are apt to expect heaven as our reward, with- 
it considering how miserable a proportion our best meant 
;tions bear to the ' eternal recompense ' we are vain enough 
think we deserve." Surrounded by his family, with a 
Mghbourhood containing men capable of appreciating his 
lents ; beloved by his parishioners, and loving all about 
m, silently, but beneficially, flowed on the first years of his 
inistry, only varied by occasional visits among his friends. 
Soon after Mr Heber's marriage, he began to write a series 
hymns. These hymns first made their appearance in the 
Christian Observer " in 1811 and 1812. From a prefatory 
te there, we gather that they were meant as an attempt in 

X 



MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 



some measure to redeem the "service of song" from the 
profanity and fanaticism with which it had been polluted 
The popularity which some of these hymns have attained 
among the nameless sects into which Christendom is cleft 
is better proof of their genuine merit than the most laboured 
eulogy could supply. Contemporaneously with the prepara 
tion of these hymns, Mr Heber commenced a " Dictionarjj 
of the Bible," which continued to be one of his favourite! 
employments during what remained of his residence in 
England. About this time also was begun his poem on 
the " Morte d'Arthur," a glorious fragment. Since Heber 
wrote, however, the genius of Tennyson has dealt with this 
same theme. Pursuits of every kind were now interrupted 
by a cutaneous disorder, originally induced by exposure to 
night air in an open carriage while travelling in the Crimea. 
Sea-bathing and a long course of medical treatment were 
necessary before the disease was eradicated. 

In 1815, Mr Heber was appointed Bampton lecturer. Thel 
subject he chose, " The Personality and Of&ce of the Chris- 1 
tian Comforter," was well calculated to exhibit at once his \ 
profound acquaintance with theological learning and the, 
elevated devotion of his own spirit. Many friends differed j 
from him on some speculative points in the treatment of ^ 
this topic ; but all admired the depth of learning, the variety ! 
of research, and the richness of illustration which the work , 
displayed. During a brief absence from home, Mr Heber 
with whom poetry and theology were never far apart, com- 
menced and completed the only dramatic poem he ever 
wrote — a "masque," taken from Chaucer's "Wife of Bath's 
Tale." The plot turns upon the solution of the same riddle ; 
but in the introduction of Titania and her fairies, of Merlin, 
and of the personages of Arthur's court, it differs from! 
the original story. This drama exhibits much dramatic j 
power. The next considerable effort of Mr Heber 's muse 
remains an unfinished fragment; the subject being the^ 
same as one of James Montgomery's best known poems, , 
" World before the Flood." In the course of 1819, a royal | 



l_. 



MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xi 

'letter was granted authorising collections to be made in 
every churcli and chapel in England in furtherance of the 
Eastern operations of the Society for Propagating the Gospel. 
Mr Keginald Heber went to hear the Dean of St Asaph preach 
on the day appointed, and at his request wrote the hymn 
commencing "From Greenland's icy mountains," which 
was first sung in that beautiful but sequestered parish. A 
controversy respecting the Bible Society; a Critique on 
the Calvinism of " Scott's Force of Truth ;" a History of 
the Cossacks ; and a Life of Jeremy Taylor, were the next 
topics that engaged Mr Heber's pen. The preachership at 
Lincoln's Inn becoming vacant early in 1822, Mr Reginald 
Beber was unanimously elected by the benchers. This 
ippointment he held in conjunction with the living at 
Hodnet. *' "Whiggish and Jacobinical " attacks on the 
Dhurch of England now engaged his attention. He was 
oreparing an antidote to the slanderers of the Church when 
:he appointment to the see of Calcutta cut short his literary 
abours. In its unfinished state, the sheets of this reply 
svere recovered from Gifford, and the fragment appears in 
lis published works. For many years Mr Reginald Heber 
lad watched with interest the progress made by Christianity 
ivrherever English influence extended ; but especially to India 
lad his thoughts and views been directed. With Martyn 
lie had in idea traversed its sultry regions, shared his priva- 
tions, sympathised in his sufferings, and exulted in his 
luccess. In addition to the interest he felt in the religious 
'iitate of the East, those regions had for him a romantic 
,;harm. He loved to contemplate human nature in every 
j-aried form. His imagination was keenly alive to the 
'mblime glory of tropical climes. 

] After twice declining the Indian mitre, he at length ac- 
epted. On the 1st June 1823. Dr Heber was consecrated 
'■,t Lambeth; on the 13th, he received the valedictory 
ddress of the Society for Promoting Christian Know- 
edge; and on the 16th, the Bishop with his family sailed 
Dr India, that land of disappointment, sorrow, and death. 



Xll MEMOIR OP BISHOP HEBER. 

During the brief period he occupied that high place in the 
field of Christian effort, he magnified his office in the 
apostolic sense of the phrase. The story of his labours, 
however, rather belongs to the history of Indian Missionsj 
than to the task y/e have now assigned ourselves. Th- 
nature and extent of the duties performed by Bishop Heber, 
during the short time he presided over the Indian Church,, 
may be learned from the narrative edited by his widow. 
"We can only glance at the closing scene of his abundant 
labours. At daybreak on the 3d April 1826, the Bishop 
visited the mission-church in the Fort of Trichinopoly, 
""^^ confirming,*' in their own language, fifteen natives, and 
discharging other duties of the overseer of the flock of God. 
His interest was much excited by all he had seen, and he 
spoke with sorrow of the obstacles with which the mission 
was called to grapple. On retiring to his room, he immedi- 
ately took off his clothes and went into a large cold bath. 
Half an hour after his servant entered, and found him a 
corpse. For a good while the enemy had lurked unsuspected 
in his constitution ; probably no precaution could have long 
delayed the stroke, but intense mental application, combined! i 
with the effects of cold upon a frame exhausted by heatj 
and fatigue, precipitated the catastrophe. The good Bishop 
was followed to the grave by the tears of Trichinopoly. 
He fell in a nobler mission than climbing the icy steep 
ambition delights to scale. 

" Happy he 

WTio to his rest is borne 

In sure and certain hope, 

Before the hand of age 

Hath chilled his faculties, 
Or sorrow reached him in his heart of hearts; 
Most happy if he leave, in his good name, 
A light for those who follow him, 
And in his works a living seed, 
Of good prolific stilL" 



m 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

PALESTINE, 1 

Notes, 67 

EUROPE, 15 

Notes, 69 

fHE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA, / . 27 

Notes, 70 

:banslations of PINDAR :— 

I 

I. To Hiero of Syracuse—" Can earth or fire," &c., 32 

II. To Theron of AgTagas — "0 song! whose 
voice," &c., 37 

III. To the same — " May my solemn strain," &c., 43 

IV. To Psaumis of Camarina — " Oh, urging on 

the tireless speed," .... 45 

V. To the same — "Accept of these Olympian 
games," &c., 47 

VI. To Agesias of Syracuse — " Who seeks a goodly 
bower," &c., 48 

Notes, 71 

lYMNS:— 






XIV CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Second Sunday in Advent — "In the sun and 
moon and stars," 56 

Third Sunday in Advent — "Oh Saviour, is 
Thy promise fled," 66 

Fourth Sunday in Advent — "The Lord shall 
come," &c., . ..... 67 

Christmas Pay — "Oh Saviour^ whom this holy- 
morn," 58 

Sunday after Christmas — "Lord of Mercy," &c., 58 

Innocents' Day — " Oh weep not o'er thy chil- ' 

dren," &c., 59 

Epiphany — "Brightest and best of the sons," &c., 60 

First Sunday after Epiphany, No. I. — 
"Abash'd be all," &c., 60 

First Sunday after Epiphany, No. II. — "By 
cool Siloam," &c., 61 

Third Sunday after Epiphany— " Lord ! 
whose grace, in power excelling," ... 62 

From Greenland's icy mountains, . . 62 

MISCELLANEOUS:— 

Lines spoken in the Theatre, Oxford, on 

Lord Grenville's Installation as Chancellor, . 64 
Epitaph on a young Naval Officer, . . 66 
Notes, 67 



PALESTINE; 

PECITED IN THE THEATRE, OXFORD, 

UJ lUE TKAK MDOCCIU. 




i 



PALESTINE. 



Reft of thy sons, amid thy foes forlorn, 
Mourn, widow' d Queen, forgotten Sion, mourn ! 
Is tliis thy place, sad city, this thy throne, 
Where the wild desert rears its craggy stone ; 
While suns unblest their angry lustre fling, 
And way worn pilgrims seek the scanty spring ! — 
Where now thy pomp, which kings with envy view'd ? 
Where now thy might, which all those kings subdued I 
Ko martial myriads muster in thy gate ; 
No suppliant nations in thy Temple wait : 
No prophet bards, thy glittering com-ts among. 
Wake the full lyre, and swell the tide of song : 
But lawless force, and meagre want are there, 
And the quick-darting eye of restless fear, 
While cold Oblivion, 'mid thy ruins laid. 
Folds his dank wing beneath the ivy shade. 

Ye guardian saints ! ye warrior sons of Heaven, 
To whose high care Judaea's state was given ! 
wont of old your nightly watch to keep, 
A host of gods, on Sion's towery steep ! 
If e'er your secret footsteps linger still 
By Siloa's fount or Tabor's echoing hill ; 
If e er your song on Salem's glories dwell. 
And mourn the captive land you loved so well ; 



HEBER'S POEMS. 



(For oft, 'tis said, in Kedron's palmy vale 
Mysterious harpings swell tlie midnight gale, 
And, blest as balmy dews that Hermon cheer. 
Melt in soft cadence on the pilgrim's ear ;) 
Forgive, blest spirits, if a theme so high 
Mock the weak notes of mortal minstrelsy ! 
Yet, might your aid this anxious breast inspire 
With one faint spark of Milton's seraph fire, 
Then should my IMuse ascend with bolder flight. 
And wave her eagle-plumes exulting in the light. 

happy once in Heaven's peculiar love, 
Delight of men below, and saints above ! 
Though, Salem, now the spoiler's ruffian hand 
Has loosed his hell-hounds o'er thy wasted land ; 
Though weak, and whelm'd beneath the storms of fate, 
Thy house is left unto thee desolate ; 
Though thy proud stones in cumbrous ruin fall, 
And seas of sand o'ertop thy mouldering wall ; 
Yet shall the Muse to fancy's ardent view 
Each shadowy trace of faded pomp renew : 
And as the seer on Pisgah's topmost brow 
With glistening eye beheld the plain below. 
With prescient ardour drank the scented gale, 
And bade the opening glades of Canaan hail ; 
Her eagle eye shall scan the prospect wide. 
From Carmel's cliflfs to Almotana's tide ; 
The flinty waste, the cedar-tufted hill. 
The liquid health of smooth Ardeni's rill ; 
The grot, where, by the watch-fire's evening blaze. 
The robber riots or the hermit prays ; 
Or where the tempest rives the hoaiy stone, 
The wintry top of giant Lebanon. 

Fierce, hardy, proud, in conscious freedom bold, 
Those stormy seats the warrior Druses hold ; 
From Norman blood their lofty line they trace, 
Their lion com^age proves their generous race ; 
They, only they, while all around them kneel 
In sullen homage to the Thracian steel, 



i 



PALESTINE. 



Teach their pale despot's waning Moon to fear 
The patriot terrors of the mountain spear. 

Yes, valorous chiefs, while yet your sabres shine 
The native guard of feeble Palestine, 
Oh, ever thus, by no vain boast dismay' d, 
Defend the birthright of the cedar shade ! 
What though no more for you th' obedient gale 
Swells the white bosom of the Tyrian sail ? 
Though now no more your glittering marts unfold 
Sidonian dyes and Lusitanian gold ; 
Though not for you the pale and sickly slave 
Forgets the hght in Ophir's wealthy cave : 
Yet yours the lot, in proud contentment blest, 
Where cheerful labour leads to tranquil rest. 
No robber rage the ripening harvest knows ; 
And unrestrain'd the generous vintage flows : 
Nor less yc^jr sons to manliest deeds aspire. 
And Asia's mountains glow with Spartan fire. 

So when, deep sinking in the rosy main. 
The western sun forsakes the Syrian plain, 
His watery rays refracted lustre shed. 
And pour their latest light on Carmel's head. 

Yet shines your praise, amid surrounding gloom, 
As the lone lamp that trembles in the tomb : 
For few the souls that spurn a tyrant's chain. 
And small the bounds of freedom's scanty reign. 
As the poor outcast on the cheerless wild, 
Arabia's parent, clasp'd her fainting child, 
And wander' d near the roof, no more her home, 
Forbid to Imger, yet afraid to roam ; 
My sorrowing fancy quits the happier height, 
And southward throws her half-averted sight. 
For sad the scenes Judaea's plains disclose, 
A dreary wast of undistinguish'd woes : 
See War untired his crimson pinions spread. 
And foul revenge that tramples on the dead. 
Lo, where from far the guarded fountains shine, 
Tby tents, Nebaioth, rise, and Kedar, thills i 



HEBER S POEMS. 



'Tis yours the boast to mark the stranger's way, 
And spur yoiu- headlong chargers on the prey, 
Or rouse your nightly numbers from afar, 
And on the hamlet pour the waste of war ; 
Nor spare the hoary head, nor bid your eye 
Revere the sacred smile of infancy. 
Such now the clans, whose fiery coursers feed 
Where waves on Kishon's bank the whispering reed; 
And theirs the soil, where, curling to the skies. 
Smokes on Samaria's mount her scanty sacrifice; 
While Israel's sons, by scorpion curses driven, 
Outcasts of earth, and reprobate of heaven. 
Through the wide world in friendless exile stray. 
Remorse and shame sole comrades of their way. 
With dumb despair their country's wrongs behold, 
And, dead to glory, only burn for gold. 

Thou, their Guide, their Father, and their Lord, 
Loved for Thy mercies, for Thy power adored ! 
If at Tliy name the waves forgot their force. 
And refiuent Jordan sought his trembling source ; 
If at Thy name like sheep the mountains tied. 
And haughty Sirion bow'd his marble head ; — 
To Israel's woes a pitying ear incline. 
And raise from earth Thy long neglected vine ! 
Her rifled fruits behold the heathen bear. 
And wild- wood boars her mangled clusters tear. 
Was it for this she stretch'd her peopled reign 
From far Euphrates to the western main ? 
For this o'er many a hill her bows she threw. 
And her wide arms like goodly cedars grew? 
For this proud Edom slept beneath her shade, 
And o'er th' Arabian deep her branches plaj'-'d ? 

Oh feeble boast of transitory power ! 
Vain, fruitless trust of Judah's happier hour ! 
Not such their hope when through the parted main 
The cloudy wonder led the warrior train : 
Not such their hope, when through the fields of night 
The torch of heaven diffused its friendly light : 



PALESTINE. 

Notj when fierce conquest urged the onward war. 
And hurl'd stern Canaan from his iron car : 
Nor, when five monarchs led to Gibeon's fight, 
In rude array, the harness'd Amorite : 
Yes^n that hour, by mortal accents stay'd. 
The lingering sun his fiery wheels delay' d ; 
The moon, obedient, trembled at the sound, 
Curb'd her pale car and check' d her mazy round ! 

Let Sinai tell — for she beheld His might, 
And God's own darkness veil'd her mystic height: 
(He, cherub-borne upon the whirlwind rode. 
And the red mountain like a furnace glow'd) ; 
Let Sinai tell — but who shall dare recite 
His praise. His power, eternal, infinite?— 
Awe-struck I cease ; nor bid my strains aspire, 
Or serve His altar with unhallowed fire. 

Such were the cares that watch' d o' er Israel' s fate, 
And such the glories of their infant state. 
— Triumphant race ! and did your power decay ? 
Fail'd the bright promise of your early day ? 
No : — ^by that sword, Avhicli, red with heathen gore, 
A giant spoil, the stripling champion bore ; 
By him, the chief to farthest India known. 
The mighty master of the ivory throne : 
In Heaven's own streng-th, high towering o'er her foes, 
Victorious Salem's lion banner rose ; 
Before her footstool prostrate nations lay. 
And vassal tyrants crouch' d beneath her sway. 

And he, the kingly sage, whose restless mind 
Through nature's mazes wandered unconfined ; 
Who every bird, and beast, and insect knew. 
And spake of every plant that quaflfs the dew ; 
To him were known — so Hagafs ofi'spring tell — 
The powerful sigil and the starry spell, 
The midnight call, hell's shadowy legions dread, 
And sounds that burst the slumbers of the dead. 
Hence all liis might ; for who could these oppose ? 
And Tadmor thus, and Syrian Balbec rose. 



heber's poems. 



Yet e'en the works of toiling genii fall, 
And vain was Estakhar's enchanted wall. 
In frantic converse with the mournful wind 
There oft the houseless Santon rests reclined; 
Strange shapes he views, and drinks with wondering ears 
The voices of the dead, and songs of other years. 

Such, the faint echo of departed praise, 
Still sound Arabia's legendary lays ; 
And thus their fabling bards delight to tell 
How lovely were thy tents, Israel ! 

For thee his ivory load Behemoth bore, 
And far Sofala teem'd with golden ore ; 
Thine all the arts that wait on wealth's increase, 
Or bask and wanton in the beam of peace. 
When Tyber slept beneath the cypress gloom, 
And silence held the lonely woods of Rome ; 
Or e'er to Greece the builder's skill was known. 
Or the light chisel brush' d the Parian stone ; 
Yet here fair Science nursed her infant fire, 
Fann'd by the artist aid of friendly Tyre. 
Then tower' d the palace, then in awful state 
The temple rear'd its everlasting gate : 
No workman steel, no ponderous axes rung ! 
Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung. 
Majestic silence ! — then the hai'p awoke. 
The cymbal clang' d, the deep- voiced trumpet spoke ; 
And Salem spread her suppliant arms abroad, 
View' d the descending flame, and bless' d the present God. 

Nor shrunk she then, when, raging deep and loud, 
Beat o'er her soul the billows of the proud. 
E'en they who, dragg'd to Shinar's fiery sand, 
Till'd with reluctant strength the stranger's land ; 
Who sadly told the slow revolving years, 
And steep' d the captive's bitter bread with tears : — 
Yet oft their hearts with kindling hopes would burn, 
Their destined triumphs, and their glad return. 
And their sad lyres, which, silent and unstrung. 
In mournful ranks on Babel's willows hung, 



PALESTINE. 



Would oft awake to chant their future fame, 

And from the skies their lingering Saviour claim. 

His promised aid could every fear control ; 

This nerved the warrior' s arm, this steel' d the martyr' s soul ! 

Nor vain their hope : — bright beaming through tlie sky, 

Burst in full blaze the Day-spring from on high ; 

Earth's utmost isles exulted at the sight, 

And crowding nations drank the orient light. 

Lo ! star-led chiefs Assyrian odours bring, 

And bending Magi seek their infant King ! 

Mark'd ye, where hovering o'er his radiant head, 

The dove's white wings celestial glory shed? 

Daughter of Sion ! virgin queen ! rejoice ! 

Clap the glad hand and lift th' exulting voice ! 

He comes, — but not in regal splendour drest, 

The haughty diadem, the Tyrian vest ; 

Not arm'd in flame, all-glorious from afar, 

Of hosts the chieftain, and the lord of war, 

Messiah comes ! — let furious discord cease ; 

Be peace on earth before the Prince of peace ! 

Disease and anguish feel His blest control. 

And howling fiends release the tortured soul ; 

The beams of gladness hell's dark caves illume, 

And Mercy broods above the distant gloom. 

Thou palsied earth, with noonday night o'erspread ! 
Thou sickening sun, so dark, so deep, so red ! 
Ye hovering ghosts, that throng the starless air. 
Why shakes the earth? why fades the light? declare ! 
Are those His limbs, with ruthless scourges torn ? 
His brows, all bleeding with the twisted thorn ? 
His the pale form, the meek forgiving eye 
Raised from the cross in patient agony ? 
— Be dark, thou sun, — thou noonday night arise. 
And hide, oh hide, the dreadful sacrifice ! 
! Ye faithful few, by bold afi'ection led, 
Who round the Saviour's cross your sorrows shed, 
Not for His sake your tearful vigils keep ; — 
Weep for your country, for your children weep ! 



10 HEBER S POEMS. 



— Vengeance ! thy fiery wing tlieir race pursued ; 
Thy thirsty poniard blush' d with infant blood. 
Roused at thy call, and panting still for game, 
The bird of war, the Latian eagle, came. 
Then Judah raged, by ruffian Discord led, 
Drunk with the steamy carnage of the dead : 
He saw his sons by dubious slaughter fall. 
And war Avithout, and death within the wall. 
Wide-wasting plague, gaunt famine, mad despair, 
And dire debate, and clamorous strife was there ; 
Love, strong as death, retain' d his might no more, 
And the pale parent drank her children's gore. 
Yet they, who wont to roam the ensanguined plain, 
And spurn with fell delight their kindred slain ; 
E'en they, when, high above the dusty fight. 
Their burning Temple rose in lurid light. 
To their loved altars paid a parting groan, 
And in their country's woes forgot their own. 

As 'mid the cedar courts and gates of gold 
The trampled ranks in miry carnage roU'd, 
To save their Temple every hand essay' d. 
And with cold fingers grasp' d the feeble blade : 
Through their torn veins reviving fury ran, 
And life's last anger warm'd the dying man ! 

But heavier far the fetter'd captives' doom ! 
To glut with sighs the iron ear of Rome : 
To swell, slow-pacing by the car's tall side. 
The stoic tyrant's philosophic pride ; 
To flesh the lion's ravenous jaws, or feel 
The sportive fury of the fencer's steel ; 
Or pant, deep plunged beneath the sultry mine, 
For the light gales of balmy Palestine. 

Ah ! fruitful now no more, — an empty coast, 
She mourn' d her sons enslaved, her glories lost : 
In her wide streets the lonely raven bred. 
There bark'd the wolf, and dire hyoenas fed. 
Yet 'midst her towery fanes, in ruin laid, 
The pilgrim saint his murmuring vespers paid ; 



PALESTINE. H 



'Twas his to climb the tufted rocks, and rove 
The chequer'd twilight of the olive grove ; 
'Twas his to bend beneath the sacred gloom, 
And wear with many a kiss Messiah's tomb : 
While forms celestial fill'd his tranced eye, 
The daylight dreams of pensive piety. 
O'er his still breast a tearful fervour stole, 
And softer sorrows charm' d the mourner's soul. 

Oh, lives tliere one who mocks his artless zeal— 
Too proud to worship, and too wise to feel { 
Be his the soul with wintry reason blest. 
The dull, lethargic sovereign of the breast ! 
Be his the life that creeps in dead repose. 
No joy that sparkles, and no tear that flows ! 

Far other they who rear'd yon pompous shrine, 
And bade the rock with Parian marble shine. 
Then hallow' d Peace renew' d her wealthy reign, 
Then altars smoked, and Sion smiled again. 
There sculptured gold and costly gems were seen, 
And all the bounties of the British queen ; 
There barbarous kings their sandall'd nations led, 
And steel-clad champions bow'd the crested head. 
There, when her fiery race the desert pour'd, 
And pale Byzantium fear'd Medina's sword. 
When coward Asia shook in trembhng woe, 
And bent appall' d before the Bactrian bow ; 
From the moist regions of the western star 
The wandering hermit waked the storm of war. 
Their limbs all iron, and their souls all flame, 
A countless host, the red-cross warriors came ; 
E'en hoary priests the sacred combat wage. 
And clothe in steel the palsied arm of age ; 
While beardless youths and tender maids assume 
The weighty morion and the glancing plume. 
In sportive pride the warrior damsels wield 
The ponderous falchion and the sun-like shield, 
And start to see their armour's iron gleam 
Dance with blue lustre in Tabaria's stream. 



12 HEBER'S POEMS. 



The blood-red banner floating o'er their van. 
All madly blithe the mingled myriads ran : 
Impatient Death beheld his destmed food, 
And hovering vultm^es snufi'd the scent of blood. 

JSTot such the numbers, nor the host so dread, 
By northern Brenn or Scythian Timux led ; 
Nor such the heart-inspiring zeal -that bore 
United Greece to Phrygia's reedy shore ! 
There Gaul's proud knights with boastful mien advance, 
Form the long line, and shake the cornel lance ; 
Here, link'd with Tlu-ace, in close battalions stand 
Ausonia's sons, a soft inglorious band ; 
There the stem Norman joins the Austrian train, 
And the dark tribes of late-reviving Spain ; 
Here in black files, advancing firm and slow, 
Victorious Albion twangs the deadly bow : — 
Albion, — still prompt the captive's wrong to aid. 
And wield in Freedom's cause the freeman's generous blade ! 

Ye sainted spirits of the warrior dead. 
Whose giant force Britannia's armies led ! 
Whose bickering falchions, foremost in the fight, 
Still pour'd confusion on the Soldan's might ; ^^ j 

Lords of the biting axe and beamy spear, 
Wide-conquering Edward, lion Richard, hear ! | ' 

At Albion's call your crested pride resume, } 

And burst the marble slumbers of the tomb ! • j 

Your sons behold, in arm, in heart the same, | j 

Still press the footsteps of parental fame, |l 

To Salem still their generous aid supply, | 

And pluck the palm of Syrian chivalry ! 
When he, from towery Malta's yielding isle, 
And the gi'een waters of reluctant Nile, 
Th' apostate chief, — from JMisraim's subject shore 
To Acre's walls his trophied banners bore ; 
When the pale desert mark'd his proud array, 
And desolation hoped an ampler sway ; 
What hero then triumphant Gaul dismay'd ? 
What ai-m repell'd the victor Renegade 2 



PALESTINE. 13 



Britannia's champion !— bathed in hostile blood, 
High on the breach the dauntless Seaman stood : 
Admiring Asia saw th' unequal fight, — 
E'en the pale Crescent bless'd the Christian's might. 
Oh day of death ! Oh thirst beyond control, 
Of crimson conquest in th' Invader's soul ! 
The slain, yet warm by social footsteps trod. 
O'er the red moat supplied a panting road ; 
O'er the red moat our conquering thunders flew 
And loftier still the grisly rampire grew. 
While proudly gloVd above the rescued tower 
The wavy cross that mark'd Britannia's power. 

Yet still destruction sweeps the lonely plain, 
And heroes lift the generous sword in vain. 
Still o'er her sky the clouds of anger roll, 
And God's revenge hangs heavy on her soul. 
Yet shall she rise ; — but not by war restored, 
Not built in murder, — ^planted by the sword : 
Yes ! Salem, thou shalt rise : thy Father's aid 
Shall heal the wound His chastening hand has made j 
Shall judge the proud oppressor's ruthless sway. 
And burst his brazen bonds, and cast his cords away. 
Then on your tops shall deathless verdure spring. 
Break forth, ye mountains, and ye valleys, sing ! 
No more your thirsty rocks shall frown forlorn, 
The unbeliever's jest, the heathen's scorn ; 
The sultry sands shall tenfold harvests yield, 
And a new Eden deck the thorny field. 
E'en now, perchance, wide-wavmg o'er the land, 
That mighty Angel lifts his golden wand. 
Courts the bright vision of descending power, 
Tells eveiy gate, and measures every tower ; 
And chides the tardy seals that yet detain 
Thy Lion, Judah, from his destined reign. 

And who is He ? the vast, the awful form. 
Girt with the whirlwind, sandall'd with the storm ; 
A western cloud around His limbs is spread, 
His crown a rainbow, and a sun His head. 



14 HEBER'S POEMS. 



To highest Heaven He lifts his kingly hand, 
And treads at once the ocean and the land ; 
And, hark ! His voice amid the thunder's roar, 
His dreadful voice, that Time shall be no more ! 
Lo ! cherub hands the golden courts prepare, 
Lo ! thrones arise, and every saint is there ; 
Earth's utmost bounds confess their awful sway, 
The mountains worship, and the isles obey ; 
Nor sun nor moon they need, — nor day, nor night ; — 
God is theu' temple, and the Lamb their light : 
And shall not Israel's sons exulting come, 
Hail the glad beam, and claim their ancient home ? 
On David's throne shall David's offspring reign, 
And the dry bones be warm with life again. 
Hark ! white-robed crowds their deep hosannas raise, 
And the hoarse flood repeats the sound of praise ; 
Ten thousand harps attune the mystic song, 
Ten thousand thousand saints the strain prolong ; 
" Worthy the Lamb ! omnipotent to save, 
Who died, who lives, triumphant o'er the grave ! " 



EUEOPE: 

LINES ON THE PEESENT WAE. 

WRITTEN IN MDCCCIX. 

ID. QVANDO. ACCIDERIT. NON. SATIS. AVDEO 
EFFAKI. SIQVIDEM. NON. CLAKIVS. MIHI 
PES. SACROS. TEIPODES. CERTA. KEFERT. DEVS 
NEC. SERVAT. PEXITVS. FIDEM 

QVOD. Sr. QVID. LICEAT. CREDERE. ADHVC. TAMEN 
NAM. LAEVVM. TONVIT. NON. FVEKIT. PKOCVL 
QVAERENDVS. CELERI. QVI. PEOPEKET. GRADV 
ET. GALLVM. REPEIMAT. FEKOX 

PETRVS. CRINITVS. IN CARMINE 
AD, BER. CARAPHAM. 

At that dread season when th' indignant North 
Pour'd to vain wars her tardy numbers forth, 
When Frederic bent his ear to Europe's cry, 
And fann'd, too late, the flame of Hberty ; 
By feverish hope oppress' d and anxious thought, 
In Dresden's grove the dewy cool I sought. 
Through tangled boughs the broken moonshine play'd, 
And Elbe slept soft beneath his linden shade ; 
Yet slept not all ; — I heard the ceaseless jar. 
The rattling waggons, and the wheels of war ; 
The sounding lash, the march's mingled hum, 
And, lost and heard by fits, the languid drum ; 
O'er the near bridge the thundering hoofs that trode, 
And the far-distant fife that trill' d along the road. 
Yes, sweet it seems across some watery dell 
To catch the music of the pealing bell ; 
And sweet to list, as on the beach we stray, 
The ?hip-boy's carol in the wealthy bay : — 



16 KEBER'S POEMS. 



But sweet no less, when justice points the spear, 
Of martial wrath the glorious din to hear, — 
To catch the war-note on the quivering gale, 
And bid the blood-red paths of conquest hail. 

Oh ! song of hope, too long delusive strain ! 
And hear we now thy flattering voice again { 
But late, alas ! I left thee cold and still, 
Stunn'd by the wrath of Heaven, on Pratzen's hilL 
Oh ! on that hill may no kind month renew 
The fertile rain, the sparkling summer dew ! 
Accursed of God, may those bleak summits tell 
The field of anger where the mighty fell. 
There youthful faith and highborn courage rest, 
And, red with slaughter, freedom's humbled crest ; 
There Europe soil'd with blood her tresses gi-ay. 
And ancient honour's shield, — all vilely thrown away. 

Thus mused my soul, as in succession drear 
Rose each grim shape of wrath and doubt and fear ; 
Defeat and shame in grisly vision past, [last 

And vengeance bought with blood, and glorious death th( 
Then, as my gaze their waving eagles met. 
And through the night each sparkHng bayonet, 
Still memory told how Austria's evil hoiu: 
Had felt on Praga's field a Frederic's power. 
And Gallia's vaunting train, and Moscow's horde. 
Had flesh'd the maiden steel of Brunswick's sword. 
Oh ! yet I deem'd that fate, by justice led, 
Might wreathe once more the veteran's silver head; 
That Europe's ancient pride woidd yet disdain 
The cumbrous sceptre of a single reign ; 
That conscious right would tenfold strength afford. 
And Heaven assist the patriot's holy sword, 
And look in mercy through the auspicious sky, 
To bless the saviour host of Germany ! 

And are they, dreams, these bodings, such as shed 
Their lonely comfort o'er the hermit's bed ? 
And are they dreams ? or can the Eternal ^lind 
Care for a sparrow, yet neglect mankind ? 



,1 



EUKOPE. 17 



Why, if the dubious battle own His power, 
And the red sabre where He bids devour, 
Why then can one the curse of worlds deride, 
And millions weep a tyrant's single pride ? 

Thus sadly musing, far my footsteps stray'd. 
Rapt in the visions of the Aonian maid. 
It was not she, whose lonely voice I hear 
Fall in soft whispers on my love-lorn ear ; 
My daily guest, Avho wont my steps to guide 
Through the green walks of scented eventide. 
Or stretch' d with me in noonday ease along. 
To list the reaper's chant or throstle's song : — 
But she of loftier port ; whose grave control 
Rules the fierce workings of the patriot's soul ; 
She whose high presence, o'er the midnight oil, 
With fame's bright promise cheers the student's toil ; 
That same was she, whose ancient lore refined 
The sober hardihood of Sydney's mind. 
Borne on her wing, no more I seem'd to rove 
By Dresden's glittering spires and linden grove ; 
No more the giant Elbe, aU silver bright, 
Spread his broad bosom to the fair moonlight, 
While the still margent of his ample flood 
Bore the dark image of the Saxon wood. 
(Woods happy once, that heard the carols free 
Of rustic love and cheerful industry ; 
Now dull and joyless lie their alleys green. 
And silence marks the track where France has been.) 
Far other scenes than these my fancy view'd : 
Rocks robed in ice, a mountain solitude ; 
Where, on Helvetian hills, in godlike state, 
Alone and awful, Europe's Angel sate : 
Silent and stern he sate ; then, bending low, 
Listen'd the ascending plaints of human woe. 
And waving as in grief his towery head, 
" Not yet, not yet, the day of rest," he said ; 
" It may not be. Destruction's gory wing 
Soars o'er the banners of the younger king, 



18 HEBER S POEMS. 



Too rashly brave, who seeks with single sway- 
To stem the lava on its destined way. 
Poor glittering warriors, only wont to know 
The bloodless pageant of a martial show ; 
Nurslings of peace for fiercer fights prepare, 
And dread the step-dame sway of unaccustom'd war ! 
They fight, they bleed!— Oh! had that blood been shed 
When Charles and valour Aiistria's armies led ; 
Had these stood forth the righteous cause to shield, 
When victory wavefd on Moravia's field ; 
Then France had mourn' d her conquests made in vain, 
Her backward beaten ranks and countless slain ; — 
Then had the strength of Europe's freedom stood, 
And still the Rhine had roll'd a German flood ! 

" Oh ! nursed in many a wUe, and practised long. 
To spoil the poor and cringe before the strong ; 
To swell the victor's state, and hovering near, 
Like some base vulture in the battle's rear, 
To watch the carnage of the field, and share 
Each loatlisome alms the prouder eagles spare : 
A curse is on thee, Brandenburgh ! the sound 
Of Poland's wailing drags thee to the ground ; 
And, drunk with guilt, thy harlot lips shall know 
The bitter dregs of Austria's cup of woe. 

" Enough of vengeance! O'er th' ensanguined plata 
I gaze, and seek their numerous host in vain ; 
Gone like the locust band, when whirlwinds bear 
Their flimsy legions through the waste of air. 
Enough of vengeance! — By the glorious dead, 
Who bravely fell where youtliful Lewis led ; 
By Blucher's sword in fiercest danger tried, 
And the true heart that biu-st when Brunswick died ; 
By her whose charms the coldest zeal might warm. 
The manliest firmness in the fairest form — 
Save, Europe, save the remnant ! — Yet remains 
One glorious path to free the world from chains. 
Why, when yon northern band in Eylau's wood 
Retreating struck, and track' d their course with blood, 



19 



While one firm rock the floods of ruin stay'd, 
Why, generous Austria, were thy wheels delay'd '( 
And Albion!" — Darker sorrow veil' d his brow — 
" Friend of the friendless — Albion ! where art thou '^ 
Child of the Sea, whose wing-like sails are spread, 
The covering cherub of the ocean's bed ! 
The storm and tempest render peace to thee, 
And the wild-roaring waves a stern security. 
But hope not thou in Heaven's own strength to ride, 
Freedom's loved ark, o'er broad oppression's tide ; 
If virtue leave thee, if thy careless eye 
Glance in contempt on Europe's agony. 
Alas ! where now the bands who wont to pour 
Their strong deliverance on th' Egyptian shore ? 
Wing, wing your course, a prostrate world to save, 
Triumphant squadrons of Trafalgar's wave. 

"And thou, blest star of Europe's darkest hour, 
Whose words were wisdom and whose counsels power. 
Whom Earth applauded through her peopled shores ! 
(Alas ! whom Earth too early lost deplores : — ) 
Young without follies, without rashness bold, 
And greatly poor amidst a nation's gold ; 
In every veering gale of faction true, 
TJntarnish'd Chatham's genuine child, adieu ! 
Unlike our common suns, whose gradual ray 
Expands from twilight to intenser day. 
Thy blaze broke forth at once in full meridian sway. 
0, proved in danger ! not the fiercest flame 
Of discord's rage thy constant soul could tame ; 
Not when, far striding o'er thy palsied land. 
Gigantic Treason took his bolder stand ; 
Not when wild Zeal, by murderous faction led. 
On Wicklow's hills her grass-green banner spread ; 
Or those stern conquerors of the restless wave 
Defied the native soil they wont to save. 
Undaunted patriot ! in that dreadful hour. 
When pride and genius own a sterner power ; 
When the dimm'd eyeball, and the struggling breath, 



20 heber's poems. 



And pain, and terror, mark advancing death ; — 
Still in that breast thy country held her throne, 
Thy toil, thy fear, thy prayer, were hers alone. 
Thy last faint effort hers, and hers thy parting groan. 

" Yes, from those lips, while fainting nations drew 
Hope ever strong and courage ever new ; — 
Yet, yet, I deem'd by that supporting hand 
Propp'd in her fall might Freedom's ruin stand ; 
And purged by fire, and stronger from the storm, 
Degraded Justice rear her reverend form. 
Now, hope, adieu ! — adieu the generous care 
To shield the weak, and tame the proud in war ! 
The golden chain of realms, when equal awe 
Poised the strong balance of impartial law ; 
When rival states as federate sisters shone, 
Alike, yet various, and though many, one ; 
And, bright and numerous as the spangled sky, 
Beam'd each fair star of Europe's galaxy — 
All, all are gone, and after time shall trace 
One boundless rule, one undistinguish'd race ; 
Twilight of worth, where nought remains to move 
The patriot's ardour or the subject's love. 

" Behold, e'en now, while every manly lore 
And every muse forsakes my yielding shore ; 
Faint, vapid fruits of slavery's sickly clime. 
Each tinsel art succeeds, and harlot rhyme ! 
To gild the vase, to bid the piu^le spread 
In sightly foldings o'er the Grecian bed, 
Then- mimic guard where sculptured gryphons keep, 
And Memphian idols watch o'er beauty's sleep ; 
To rouse the slumbering sparks of faint desire 
With the base tinkling of the Teian lyre ; 
While youth's enervate glance and gloating age 
Hang o'er the mazy waltz or pageant stage ; 
Each wayward wish of sickly taste to please, 
The mighty revel and the noontide ease— 
These, Europe, are thy toils, thy trophies these ! 

" So, when Avide-wasting hail, or whelming rain, 



21 



Have strew' d the bearded hope of golden grain, 
From the wet furrow, struggling to the skies, 
The tall, rank weeds in barren splendour rise ; 
And strong, and towering o'er the mildew' d ear, 
Uncomely floAvers and baneful herbs appear ; 
The swain's rich toils to useless poppies yield. 
And Famine stalks along the purple field. 

" And thou, the poet's theme, the patriot's prayer ! 
Where, France, thy hopes, thy gilded promise where ? 
When o'er Montpelier's vines and Jura's snows. 
All goodly bright, young Freedom's planet rose ? 
What boots it now (to our destruction brave,) 
How strong thine arm in war ? a valiant slave ! 
What boots it now that wide thine eagles sail, 
Fann'd by the flattering breath of conquest's gale ? 
What, that, high-piled within yon ample dome. 
The blood-bought treasures rest of Greece and Rome ? 
Scourge of the Highest, bolt in vengeance hurl'd 
By Heaven's dread justice on a shrinking world ! 
Go, vanquish'd victor, bend thy proud helm down 
Before thy sullen tyrant's steely crown. 
For him, in Afric's sands and Poland's snows, 
Rear'd by thy toil the shadowy laurel gi-ows ; 
And rank in German fields the harvest springs 
Of pageant councils and obsequious kings. 
Such purple slaves, of glittering fetters vain, 
Link'd the wide circuit of the Latian chain ; 
And slaves like these shall every tyrant find, 
To gild oppression and debase mankind. 

" Oh ! live there yet whose hardy souls and high. 
Peace bought with shame, and tranquil bonds defy ? 
Who, driven from every shore, and lords in vain 
Of the wide prison, of the lonely main, 
Cling to their country's rights with freeborn zeal. 
More strong from every stroke, and patient of the steel 1 
Guiltless of chains, to them has Heaven consign'd 
Th' entrusted cause of Europe and mankind ! 
Or hope we yet in Sweden's martial snows 



22 heber's poems. 



That Freedom's weary foot may find repose ? 
No ; — from yon hermit shade, yon cypress dell, 
Where fauitly peals the distant matin-bell ; 
Where bigot kmgs and tyrant priests had shed 
Their sleepy venom o'er his dreadful head ; 
He wakes, th' avenger — hark ! the hills around, 
Untamed Asturia bids her clarion sound ; 
And many an ancient rock, and fleecy plain, 
And many a valiant heart returns the strain : 
Heard by that shore, where Calpe's armed steep 
Flings its long shadow, o'er th' Herculean deep, 
And Lusian glades, whose hoary poplars wave 
In soft sad murmurs over Inez' grave. 
They bless the call who dared the first withstand 
The Moslem wasters of their bleeding land, 
When firm in faith, and red with slaughter'd foes. 
Thy spear-encircled crown, Asturia, rose. 
Nor these alone ; as loud the war-notes swell, 
La Mancha's shepherd quits his cork-built cell : 
Alhama's strength is there, and those who till 
(A hardy race !) Morena's scorched hill ; 
And in rude arms through wide Gallicia's reign. 
The swarthy vintage pours her vigorous train. 

" Saw ye those tribes ? not theirs the plumed boast, 
The sightly trappings of a marshall'd host ; 
No weeping nations curse their deadly skill, 
Expert in danger, and inured to kill : — 
But theirs the kindling eye, the strenuous arm : 
Theirs the dark cheek, with patriot ardour warm, 
Unblanch'd by sluggard ease, or slavish fear. 
And proud and pure the blood that mantles there. 
Theirs from the birth is toil ; — o'er granite steep. 
And heathy wild, to guard the wandering sheep ; 
To urge the labouring mule, or bend the spear 
'Gainst the night-prowling wolf or felon bear ; 
The bull's hoarse rage in dreadful sport to mock, 
And meet with single sword his bellowing shock. 
Each martial chant they know, each manly rhyme. 



EUROPE. 23 



Rude ancient lays of Spain's heroic time ; 
Of him in Xeres' carnage fearless found, 
(His glittering brows with hostile spear-heads bound ;) 
Of that chaste king whose hardy mountain train 
O'erthrew the knightly race of Charlemagne ; 
And chief est him who rear'd his banner tall 
(Illustrious exile !) o'er Valencia's wall ; 
Ungraced by kings, whose Moorish title rose 
The toil-earn' d homage of his wondering foes. 

" Yes ; every mould' ring tower and haunted flood, 
And the wild murmurs of the waving wood ; 
Each sandy waste, and orange-scented dell, 
And red Buraba's field, and Lugo, tell. 
How their brave fathers fought, how thick th' invaders fell 

" Oh ! virtue long forgot, or vainly tried, 
To glut a bigot's zeal or tyrant's pride ; 
Condemn' d in distant climes to bleed and die 
'Mid the dank poisons of TIascala's sky ; 
Or when stern Austria stretch'd her lawless reign. 
And spent in northern fights the flower of Spain ; 
Or war's hoarse furies yell'd on Ysell's shore. 
And Alva's ruffian sword was drunk with gore, 
Yet dared not then TIascala's chiefs withstand 
The lofty daring of Castalia's band ; 
And weeping France her captive king deplored, 
And cursed the deathful point of Ebro's sword. 
Now, nerved with hope, their night of slavery past 
Each heart beats high in Freedom's buxom blast ; 
Lo Conquest calls, and beckoning from afar. 
Uplifts his laurel wreath, and waves them on to war. 
— Woe to th' usurper then, who dares defy 
The sturdy wrath of rustic loyalty ! 
Woe to the hireling bands foredoom' d to feel 
How strong in labour's horny hand the steel ! 
Behold e'en now, beneath yon Boetic skies 
Another Pavia bids her trophies rise ; 
E'en now in base disguise and friendly night, 
Their robber-monarch speeds his secret flight ; 



24 heber's poems. 



And with new zeal the fiery Lusians rear [spear. 

(Roused by their neighbour's worth) the long-neglected 

" So when stern winter chills the April showers, 
And iron frost forbids the timely flowers ; 
Oh, deem not thou the vigorous herb below 
Is crush' d and dead beneath th' incumbent snow 
Such tardy suns shall wealthier harvests bring 
Than all the early smiles of flattering spring." 

Sweet as the martial trumpet's silver swell, 
On my charm'd sense th' unearthly accents fell : 
Me wonder held, and joy chastised by fear. 
As one who wish'd, yet hardly hoped to hear. 
" Spirit," I cried, " dread teacher, yet declare, 
In that good fight, shall Albion's arm be there ? 
Can Albion, brave and wise, and proud, refrain 
To hail a kindred soul, and link her fate with Spain ? 
Too long her sons, estranged from war and toil, 
Have loathed the safety of the sea-girt isle ; 
And chid the waves which pent their fire within, 
As the stair d war-horse wooes the battle's din. 
Oh, by this throbbing heart, this patriot glow. 
Which, well I feel, each English breast shall know : ' 
Say, shall my country, roused from deadly sleep. 
Crowd with her hardy sons yon western steep 1 
And shall once more the star of France grow pale, 
And dim its beams in Roncesvalles' vale ? 
Or shall foul sloth and timid doubt conspire 
To mar our zeal, and waste our manly fire ?" 

Stiil as I gazed his lowering features spread. 
High rose his form, and darkness veil'd his head ; 
East from his eyes the ruddy lightning broke. 
To heaven he rear'd his arm, and thus he spoke : 

" Woe, trebly woe, to their slow zeal who bore 
Delusive comfort to Iberia's shore ! 
Who in mid conquest, vaunting, yet dismay'd, 
Now gave and now withdrew their laggard aid ; 
Who, Avhen each bosom glow'd, each heart beat high, 
Chill'd the pure stream of England's energy, 



25 



; And lost in coui'tly forms and blind delay 
[ The loiter'd hours of glory's short-lived day. 

" peerless island, generous, bold, and free, 
Lost, ruin'd Albion, Emope mourns for thee ! 
Hadst thou but known the hour in mercy given 
To stay thy doom, and ward the ire of Heaven ; 
j Bared in the cause of man thy warrior breast, 
i And crush' d on yonder hUls the approaching pest, 
' Then had not murder sack'd thy smiling plain. 
And wealth, and worth, and wisdom, all been vain ! 

" Yet, yet awake ! while fear and wonder wait 
On the poised balance, trembling still with fate ! 
If aught then worth can plead, in battle tried. 
Who tinged with slaughter Tajo's curdling tide ; 
(What time base truce the wheels of war could stay, 
And the weak victor flung his wreath away ;) — 
Or theirs, who, doled in scanty bands afar. 
Waged without hope the disproportion' d war, 
And cheerly still, and patient of distress. 
Led their forewasted files on numbers numoerless ! 

" Yes, through the march of many a weary day, 
As yon dark column toils its seaward way ; 
As bare, and shrinking from the inclement sky, 
The languid soldier bends him down to die ; 
As o'er those helpless limbs, by murder gored. 
The base pursuer waves his weaker sword. 
And, trod to earth, by trampling thousands press' d. 
The horse-hoof glances from that mangled breast ; — 
E'en in that horn- his hope to England flies. 
And fame and vengeance fire his closing eyes. 

" Oh ! if such hope can plead, or his, whose bier 
Drew from his conquering host their latest tear ; 
Whose skill, whose matciiless valour gilded flight. 
Entomb' d in foreign dust, a hasty soldier's rite ; 
Oh ! rouse thee yet to conquer and to save, 
And wisdom guide the sword which justice gave ! 

" And yet the end is not ! from yonder towers 
'While one Saguntum mocks the victor's powers ; 



26 heber's poems. 



And one true soldier wields a lance for Spain ; 
Trust not, vain tyrant, though thy spoiler band 
In tenfold myriads darken half the land ; 
(Vast as that power, against whose impious lord 
Bethulia's matron shook the nightly sword ;) 
Though ruth and fear thy woundless soul defy, 
And fatal genius fire thy martial eye, 
Yet trust not here o'er yielding realms to roam, 
Or cheaply bear a bloodless laui'el home. 

" No ! by His viewless arm whose righteous care 
Defends the orphan's tear, the poor man's prayer ; 
Who, Lord of Nature, o'er this changeful ball 
Decrees the rise of empires, and the fall ; 
Wondrous in all His ways, unseen, unknown, 
Who treads the wine-press of the world alone ; 
And robed in darkness, and surrounding fears, 
Speeds on their destined road the march of years i 
No ! — shall yon eagle, from the snare set free. 
Stoop to thy wrist, or cower his wing for thee ? 
And shall it tame despair, thy strong control, 
Or quench a nation's still reviving soul ? — 
Go, bid the force of countless bands conspire 
To curb the wandering wind, or gi'asp the fire ! 
Cast thy vain fetters on the troublous sea ! 
But Spain, the brave, the virtuous, shall be free.'* 



THE 



PASSAGE OF THE EED SEA 



With heat o'eriaboiir'd and the length of way, 
On Ethan's beach the bands of Israel lay. 
'Twas silence all the sparkling sands along, 
Save where the locust trill' d her feeble song, 
Or blended soft in drowsy cadence fell 
The wave's low whisper or the camel's bell. — 
'Twas silence all ! — ^the flocks for shelter fly 
Where, waving light, the acacia shadows lie ; 
Or where, from far, the flattering vapours make 
The noontide semblance of a misty lake : 
While the mute swain, in careless safety spread, 
With arms enfolded, and dejected head. 
Dreams o'er his wondrous call, his lineage high, 
And, late reveal'd, his children's destiny.— 
For not in vain, in thraldom's darkest hour. 
Had sped from Amram's sons the word of power ; 
Nor fail'd the dreadful wand, whose god-like sway 
Could lure the locust from her airy way ; 
With reptile war assail their proud abodes. 
And mar the giant pomp of Egypt's Gods. 
Oh helpless Gods ! who nought avail' d to shield 
From fiery rain your Zoan's favour' d field ! — 
Oh helpless Gods ! who saw the curdled blood 
Taint the pure lotus of your ancient flood, 
And fourfold night the wondering earth enchain. 
While Memnon's orient harp was heard in vain !— 

z 



28 heber's poems. 



Sucli musings held the tribes, till now the west 
With milder influence on their temples prest ; 
And that portentous cloud which, all the day. 
Hung its dark curtain o'er their weary way, 
(A cloud by day, a friendly flame by night,) 
Roll'd back its misty veil, and kindled into light ! — ! 
Soft fell the eve : — But, ere the day was done, 
Tall, waving banners streak'd the level sun ; 
And wide and dark along th' horizon red, 
In sandy surge the rising desert spread. — 
'' Mark, Israel, mark ! " — On that strange sight intent, 
In breathless terror, every eye was bent ; 
And busy faction's fast- increasing hum, 
And female voices shriek, " They come, they come ! " 
They come, they come ! in scintillating show 
O'er the dark mass the brazen lances glow; 
And sandy clouds in countless shapes combine, 
As deepens or extends the long tumultuous line ; — 
And fancy's keener glance ev'n now may trace 
The threatening aspects of each mingled race : 
For many a coal-black tribe and cany spear. 
The hireling guards of Misraim's throne, were there. 
From distant Gush they troop' d, a warrior train, 
Siwah's green isle and Sennaar's marly plain : 
On either wing their fiery coiursers check 
The parch'd and sinewy sons of Amalek : 
While close behind, inured to feast on blood, 
Deck'd in Behemoth's spoils, the tall Shangalla strode. 
'Mid blazing helms and bucklers rough with gold- 
Saw ye how swift the scythed chariots roll'd ? 
Lo, these are they whom, lords of Afric's fates. 
Old Thebes hath pour'd through all her hundred gates, 
Mother of armies ! — How the emeralds glow'd. 
Where, flush' d with power and vengeance, Pharaoh rode! 
And stoled in white, those brazen wheels before, 
Osiris' ark his swarthy wizards bore ; 
And still responsive to the trumpet's cry. 
The priestly sistrum murmur' d— Victory !— 



THE PASSAGE OF THE RE1> SEA. 29 

Why swell these shouts that rend the desert's gloom ? 
Whom come ye forth to combat ? — Avarriors, whom ? — 
These flocks and herds — this faint and weary train- 
Red from the scourge and recent from the chain ? — 
God of the poor, the poor and friendless save ! 
Giver and Lord of freedom, help the slave ! — 
North, soutlr, and west, the sandy whirlwinds fly, 
The circling horns of Egypt's chivalry. 
On earth's last margin throng the weeping train : 
Their cloudy guide moves on: — "And must we swim the 
'Mid the light spray their snorting camels stood, [main ?" 
Kor bathed a fetlock in the nauseous flood — 
He comes — their leader comes ! — the man of God 
O'er the wide waters lifts his mighty rod, 
And on Avard" treads : The circling waves retreat, 
In hoarse deep murmurs, from his holy feet ; 
And the chased surges, inly roaring, show 
The hard wet sand, and coral hills below. 

With limbs that falter, and with hearts that swell, 
' Down, down they pass— a steep and slippery dell — 
Around them rise, in pristine chaos hml'd. 
The ancient rocks, the secrets of the world ; 
And flowers that blush beneath the ocean green. 
And caves, the sea-calves' low-roof d haunt are seen. 
Down, safely down the narrow pass they tread ; 
The beetling waters storm above their head : 
While far behind retires the sinking day, 
And fades on Edom's hills its latest ray. 

Yet not from Israel fled the friendly light, 
Or dark to them, or cheerless came the night. 
Still in their van, along that dreadful road, 
Blazed broad and fierce the brae dish' d torch of God 
Its meteor glare a tenfold lustre gave 
On the long mirror of the rosy wave : 
While its blest beams a sunlike heat supply. 
Warm every cheek, and dance in every eye — 
To them alone — for Misraim's wizard train 
Invoke for light their monster-gods in vain . 



so heber's poems. 



Clouds heap'd on clouds their struggling sight confine, 
And tenfold darkness broods above their line. 
Yet on they fare by reckless vengeance led, 
And range unconscious through the ocean's bed: 
Till midway now— that strange and fiery form 
Show'd his dread visage lightening through the storm ; 
With withering splendour blasted all their might, 
And brake their chariot-wheels, and marr'd their coursei 

flight. 
" Fly, Misraim, fly !"— The ravenous floods they see, 
And, fiercer than the floods, the Deity ! 
" Fly, Misraim, fly !" -From Edom's coral strand - 
Again the prophet stretch'd his dreadful wand :— 
With one wild crash the thundering waters sweep,— 
And all is waves— a dark and lonely deep- 
Yet o'er those lonely waves such murmurs pass' 4, 
As mortal wailing swell'd the nightly blast : 
And strange and sad the whispering breezes bore 
The groans of Egypt to Arabia's shore. 

Oh ! welcome came the morn, where Israel stood 
In trustless wonder by the avenging flood ! 
Oh ! welcome came the cheerful mom, to show 
The drifted wreck of Zoan's pride below ; 
The mangled limbs of men— the broken car— 
A few sad relics of a nation's war : 
Alas, how few .'—Then soft as Elim's well, 
The precious tears of new-born freedom fell. 
And he whose harden' d heart alike had borne 
The house of bondage and th' oppressor's scorn. 
The stubborn slave, by hope's new beams subdued, 
In faltering accents sobb'd his gi-atitude— 
Till kmdling into warmer zeal, around 
The virgin timbrel waked its silver soimd : 
And in fierce joy, no more by doubt supprest, 
The struggling spirit throbb'd in Miriam's breast. 
She, with bare arms, and fixing on the sky 
The dark transparence of her lucid eye, 
Pour'd on the ^vinds of heaven her wild sweet harmonj. 



1 




Ske.Tofb.'bare tarsis, & feiag on. -ch-e skr 

The ^?nV traasgarence o£ lier la/ziA. eye , 

Pom'i an. tb.e ^fonRs of leayCRier Tviia. street liarmcoiT- 

Passa^c o£ thi'i Bei Sea ^.30 



THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. 31 



** Where now," she sang, "the tall J^gyptian spear? 
On's sun-like shield, and Zoati's chariot, Avhere ? 
Above their ranks the whelming waters spread. 
Shout, Israel, for the Lord hath triumphed !"— 
And every pause between as Miriam sang, 
From tribe to tribe the martial thunder rang. 
And loud and far their stormy chorus spread,- - 
** Shout, Israel, for th& !j)rd hath triumphed J" 



TEANSLATIONS OF PINDAR. 



THE FIRST OLYMPIC ODE. 

rO HIERO OP SYRACUSE, VICTOR IN THE HORSE RACE. 

Can- earth, or fire, or liaiiid air, 
With water's sacred stream compare ? 
Can aught that wealthy tyrants hold 
Surpass the lordly blaze of gold ? — 
Or lives there one, whose restless eye 
Would seek along the empty sky, 
Beneath the sun's meridian ray, 
A warmer star, a purer day ? — 
thou, ray soul, whose choral sonsr 
Would tell of contests sharp and strong, 
Extol not other lists above 
The circus of Olympian Jove ; 
Whence, borne on many a tuneful tongue, 
To Saturn's seed the anthem sung. 
With harp, and flute, and trumpet's call, 
Hath sped to Hiero's festival. — 
Over sheep-clad Sicily 

Who the righteous sceptre beareth, 
Every flower of Virtue's tree 

Wove in various wreath he weareth.— 
. But the bud of Poesy 

Is the fairest flower of all ; 
Which the bards, with social glee. 

Strew roimd Hiero's wealthy hall.— 



TRANSLATIONS OF PINDAR. 33 

The harp on yonder pin suspended, 

Seize it, boy, for Pisa's sake ; 

And that good steed's, whose thought will wake 
A joy with anxious fondness blended ; — 
No sounding lash his sleek side rended : — 

By Alpheus' brink, with feet of flame, 
Self-driven to the goal he tended : 

And earn'd the olive wreath of fame 

For that dear lord, whose righteous name 
The sons of Syracusa tell :— 
Who loves the generous courser well : 
Beloved himself by all who dwell 
In Pelops' Lydian colony. — 
— Of earth-embracing Neptune, he 
The darling, when, in days of yore. 
All lovely from the caldron red 
By Clotho's spell delivered. 
The youth an ivory shoulder bore.— 

— ^Well ! — these are tales of mystery! — 

And many a darkly-woven lie 

With men will easy credence gain ; 

While truth, calm truth, may speak in vain,— 

For eloquence, whose honey'd sway 

Our frailer mortal wits obey, 

Can honour give to actions ill, 

And faith to deeds incredible ; — 

And bitter blame, and praises high, 

Fall truest from posterity. — 

But, if we dare the deeds rehearse 

Of those that aye endure, 
'Twere meet that in such dangerous verse 

Our every word were pure. — 
Then, son of Tantalus, receive 

A plain unvarnish'd lay ! — 
My song shall elder fables leave, 

And of thy parent say, 



34 HEBER S POEMS. 



That, when in heaven a favour' d guest, 

He call'd the gods in turn to feast 

On Sipykis, his mountain home : — 

The sovereign of the ocean foam, 

— Can mortal form such favour prove '?-^ 

Rapt thee on golden car above 

To highest house of mighty Jove j 

To which, in after day, 
Came golden-haired Ganymede^ 
As bards in ancient story read, 

The dark-wing'd eagles' prey.^ 
And when no earthly tongue could tell 
The fate of thee, invisible ; — 
Nor friends, who sought thee wide in vain, 
To soothe thy weeping mother's pain. 
Could bring the wanderer home again ; 

Some envious neighbour's spleen 
In distant hints, and darkly, said 
That in the caldron hissing red, 
And on the gods' great table spread, 

Thy mangled limbs were seen. — 
But who shall tax — I dare not, I — 
The blessed gods with gluttony ? 
Full oft the sland'rous tongue has felt 
By their high wrath the thunder dealt ; 
And sure, if ever mortal head, 
Heaven's holy watchers honoured, 

That head was Lydia's Lord. — 
Yet, could not mortal heart digest 
The wonders of that heavenly feast ; 
Elate with pride, a thought unblest 

Above his nature soar'd. — 
And now condemn' d to endless dread, 
(Such is the righteous doom of fate,) 
He eyes, above his guilty head. 
The shadowy rock's impending weight : 
The fourth with that tormented three 
In horrible society ! — 



i 



TRANSLATION'S OF PINDAR. 35 



For that, in frantic theft, 

The nectar cup he reft, 
And to his mortal i^eers in feasting pourd, 

For whom a sin it were 

"With mortal life to share 
The mystic dainties of th' immortal board : 

And who by policy 

Can hope to 'scape the eye 
Of him who sits above, by men and gods adored ?- 

For such offence, a doom severe 
Sent down the son to sojom-n here 
Among the fleeting race of man;— 
Who, when the curly down began 
To clothe his cheek in darker shade, 
To car-borne Pisa's royal maid 
A lover's tender service paid. — 
But in the darkness first he stood 
Alone by ocean's hoary flood. 
And raised to him the suppliant cry, 
The hoarse earth-shaking deity. — 

Kor call'd in vain, through cloud and storm 
Half-seen, a huge and shadowy form, 

The god of waters came. — 
He came, whom thus the youth address d — ■ 
** Oh thou, if that immortal breast 

Have felt a lover's flame, 
A lover's prayer in pity hear. 
Repel the tyrant's brazen spear 

That guards my lovely dame ! 
And grant a car whose rolling speed 
May help a lover at his need; 
Condemn'd by Pisa's hand to bleed. 
Unless I Avin the envied meed 
In Elis' field of fame !— 

For youthful knights thirteen 

By him have slaughter' d been. 
His daughter vexing with perverse delay — 



heber's poems. 



Such to a coward's eye 

Were evil augury; — 
Nor durst a coward's heart the strife essay ! 

Yet, since alike to all 

The doom of death must fall, 
Ah ! wherefore, sitting in unseemly shade, 

Wear out a nameless life. 

Remote from noble strife. 
And all the sweet applause to valour paid i — 
Yes ! — I will dare the course ! but, thoa, 
Immortal friend, my prayer allow !" 

Thus, not in vain, his grief he told — 

The ruler of the watery space 
Bestow' d a wondrous car of gold. 

And tireless steeds of winged pace. — 
So, victor in the deathful race. 

Ho tamed the strength of Pisa's king, 
And, from his bride of beauteous face, 

Beheld a stock of warriors spring, 

Six valiant sons, as legends sing. — 
And now with fame and virtue crown'd, 

Where Alpheus' stream, in watery rmg, 

Encircles half liis turfy mound. 
He sleeps beneath the piled ground, 

Near that blest spot where stranger? move, 
In many a long procession round. 

The altar of protecting Jove. 
Yet chief, in yonder lists of fame. 
Survives the noble Pelops' name ; 
Where strength of hands and nimble feet 
In stern and dubious contest meet ; 
And high renown and honey' d praise, 
And following length of honour' d days, 
The victor's weary toil repays.— 

But what are past or future joys ? — 
The present is our own, — 



TRANSLATIONS OF PINDAR. 37 

And he is wise who best employs 
The passing hour alone. 

To croAvn with knightly wreath the king 
(A grateful task) be mine ; 

And on the smooth JEolian string 
To praise his ancient line ! — 

For ne'er shall wand'ring minstrel find 

A chief so just, — a friend so kind ; 

With every grace of fortune blest ; 

The mightiest, wisest, bravest, best ! — 
God, who beholdeth thee and all thy deeds, 
Have thee in charge. King Hiero ! — so again 
The bard may sing thy horn-hoofed steeds 
In frequent triumph o'er the Olympian plain ! — 
Nor shall the bard awake a lowly strain, 
His wild notes flinging o'er the Cronian steep ; 
Whose ready muse, and not invoked in vain, 
For such high mark her strongest shaft shall keep. — 
Each hath his proper eminence ! — 
To kings indulgent Providence 
(No farther search the will of Heaven) 
The glories of the earth hath given. — 
Still ma^st thou reign ! enough for me 
To dwell with heroes like to thee, — 
Myself the chief of Grecian minstrelsy. 



II. 

TO THERON OF AGRAGAS, VICTOR IN THE CHARIOT RAOB. 

SONG ! whose voice the harp obeys. 
Accordant aye with answering string ; 
What god, what hero wilt thou praise, 
What man of godlike prowess sing ! — 
Lo ! Jove himself is Pisa's king ; 
And Jove's strong son the first to raise 



38 heber's poems. 



The barriers of the Olympic ring. — 
And now, victorious on the wing 
Of sounding wheels, our bards proclaim 
The stranger Theron's honour' d name, 
The flower of no ignoble race, 
And prop of ancient Agragas ! — 

His patient sires for many a year, 
Where that blue river rolls its flood, 
'Mid fruitless war and ci"val blood 

Essay' d their sacred home to rear. — 
Till Time assign' d in fatal hour. 
Their native virtues, wealth and power ; 
And made them, from their low degreei, 
The eye of warlike Sicily. 
And may that power, of ancient birth. 
From Saturn sprung, and parent Earth, 

Of tall Olympus' lord. 
Who sees with still benignant eye 
The games' long splendour sweeping by 

His Alpheus' holy ford : — 
Appeased with anthems chanted high, 
To Theron's late posterity 

A happier doom accord ! — 
Or good or ill, the past is gone, 
Nor Time himself, the parent one. 
Can make the former deeds undone ;— 

But who would these recall, — 
When happier days would fam efiace 
The memory of each past disgrace. 
And, from the gods, on Therons race 

Unbounded blessings fall ! 

Example meet for such a song, 
The sister queens of Laius' blood ; 

Who sorrow's edge endured long, 
Made keener by remember' d good ! — 
Yet now, she breathes the ah- of Heaven 
(On earth by smouldering thunder riven) 



TRANSLATIONS 01" PINDAR. 39 

Long-haired Semele : — 

To Pallas dear is she ; — 
Dear to the sire of gods, and dear 
To him her son, in dreadful glee, 
Who shakes the ivy-wreathed spear. — 
And thus they tell that deep below 
The sounding ocean's ebb and flow, 
Amid the daughters of the sea, 
A sister nymph must Ino be, 
And dwell in bliss eternally : — 

But, ignorant and blind, 
We little know the coming hour : 
Or if the latter day shall lower ; 
Or if to nature's kindly power 

Our life, in peace resign' d, 
Shall sink like fall of summer eve, 
And on the face of darkness leave 

A ruddy smile behind. — 
For .grief and joy, with fitful gale. 
Our crazy bark by turns assail. 

And whence, our blessings flow. 
That same tremendous Providence 
Will oft a varying doom dispense, 

And lay the mighty low. — 

To Theban Laius that befel. 

Whose son with murder dyed, 
Fulfill' d the former oracle. 

Unconscious parricide ! — 
Unconscious ! — yet avenging hell 
Pursued the offender's stealthy pace, 
And heavy, sure, and hard it fell. 
The curse of blood, on all his race ! 

Spared from their kindred strife, 

The young Thersander's life, 
Stern Polynices' heir, was left alone ; 
In every martial game. 
And in the field of Fame, 



iO HEBEll S POEMS. 



For early force and matchless prowess known : 
Was left, the pride and prop to he 
Of good Adrastus' pedigree, 
And hence, through loins of ancient kings, 
The waiTior blood of Theron springs ; 
Exalted name ! to Avhora belong 
The minstrel's harp, the poet's song, 

In fair Olympia crown' d ; 
And where 'mid Pythia's olives blue, 
An equal lot his brother drew ; 
And where his twice-twain coursers flew 

The isthmus twelve times round. — 
Such honour, earn'd by toil and care, 
May best his ancient wrongs repair, 

And wealth unstain'd by pride. 
May laugh at fortune's fickle power, 
And blameless in the tempting hour 
Of syren Ease abide : — 
Led by that star of heavenly ray, 
Which best may keep our darkling way 

O'er life's unsteady tide ! — 

For whoso holds in righteousness the throne, 
He in his heart hath known 

How the foul spirits of the guilty dead, 
In chambers dark and dread. 

Of nether earth abide, and penal flame 
Where he whom none may name, 

Lays bare the soul by stern necessity ; 
Seated in judgment high ; 

The minister of God whose arm is there. 

In heaven alike and hell, almighty everywhere ! 
But, ever bright, by day, by night, 

Exulting in excess of light ; 

From labour free and long distress, 
The good enjoy their happiness. — 
No more the stubborn soil they cleave, 
Nor stem for scanty food t)ie wave ; 



TRANSLATIONS OF PINDAR. 



But with the venerable gods they dwell : — 
No tear bedims their thankful eye, 
Nor mars their long tranquillity ; 

While those accursed howl in pangs unspeakable. — 

But who the thrice-renew'd probation 
Of either world may well endure, 
And keep, with righteous destination, 
The soul from all transgression pure ; 
To such, and sucn aJone, is given, 
To walk the rainbow paths of heaven. 
To that tall city of almighty time, 
Where ocean's balmy breezes play. 
And, flashing to the western day. 
The gorgeous blossoms of such blessed clime 
Now in the happy isles are seen 
Sparkling through the groves of green ; 
And now, all glorious to behold. 
Tinge the wave with floating gold. — 
Hence are their garlands woven — hence their hands 
Fill'd with triumphal boughs ;— the righteous doom 
Of Rhadamanthus, whom, o'er these his lands, 
A blameless judge in every time to come, 
Chronos, old Ghronos, sire of gods, hath placed ; 
Who with his consort dear. 
Dread Rhae, reigneth here 
On cloudy throne, with deathless honour graced. — 

And still, they say, in high communion, 
Peleus and Cadmus here abide ; 
And with the blest in blessed union 
(Nor Jove has Thetis' prayer denied,) 
The daughter of the ancient sea 
Hath brought her warrior boy to be ; 
Him whose stern avenging blow 
Laid the prop of Ilium low. 
Hector, train' d to slaughter fell. 
By all but him invincible ; — 



42 



HEBER S POEMS. 



And sea-born Cycnus tamed ; and slew 
Aurora's knight of Ethiop hue. — 

Beneath my rattling belt I wear 

A sheaf of arrows keen and clear, 

Of vocal shafts, that wildly fly, 

Nor ken the base their import high, 
Yet to the wise they breathe no vulgar melody. 
Yes, he is wise whom Nature's dower 

Hath raised above the crowd. — 
But, train' d in study's formal hour, 
There are who hate the minstrel's power, 
As daws who mark the eagle tower, 

And croak in envy loud ! — 
So let them rail ! but thou ! my heart, 
Rest on the bow thy levell'd dart ; 

Nor seek a worthier aim 
For arrow sent on friendship's wing, 
Than him the Agragantine king 

Who best thy song may claim. — 
For, by eternal truth I swear. 
His parent town shall scantly bear 
A soul to every friend so dear, 

A breast so void of blame ; 
Though twenty lustres rolling round. 
With rising youth her nation crown' d. 
In heart, in hand, should none be found 

Like Theron's honoiu-'d name. — 
Yes ! we have heard the factious lie ! — 
But let the babbhng vulgar try 
To blot his worth with tyranny. — 

Seek thou the ocean strand ! — 
And when thy soul would fain recoini 
The boimteous deeds of yonder lord, 
Go — reckon up the sand ! 



TRANSLATIONS OF PINDAR. 43 



III. 

TO THE SAME. 

May my solemn strain ascending 
Please the long-hair' d Helen well, 
And those brave twins of Leda's shell 
The stranger's holy cause defending! — 
With whose high name the chorus blending 
To ancient Agragas shall rise, 
And Theron for the chariot prize 
Again, and not in vain, contending. — 
The muse, in numbers bold and high, 
Hath taught my Dorian note to fly. 
Worthy of silent awe, a strange sweet harmony. 

Yes ! — as I fix mine eager view 

On yonder wreath of paly blue. 

That olive wreath, whose" shady round 

Amid the courser's mane is bound ; 

I feel again the sacred glow 

That bids my strain of rapture flow. 

With shrilly breath of Spartan flute, 

The many-voiced harp to suit ; 

And wildly fling my numbers sweet, 

Again mine ancient friend to greet. — 

Nor, Pisa, thee I leave unsung ; 

To men the parent of renown. 

Amid whose shady ringlets strung, 

Etolia binds her olive crown ; 

Whose sapling root from Scythian down 

And Ister's fount Alcides bare. 

To deck his parent's hallow' d town ; 

With placid brow and suppliant prayer 

Soothing the favour' d northern seed, 

Whose horny-hoofed victims bleed, 

To Phoebus of the flowing hair. 

2 a 



4^ heber's poems. 



A boon from these the Hero pray'd : 

One graft of that delightful tree ; 

To Jove's high hill a welcome shade, 

To men a blessed fruit to be, 

And crown of future victory. — 

For that fair moon, whose slender light 

With inefficient liorn had shone. 

When late on Pisa's airy height 

He rear'd to Jove the altar stone ; , 

Now, through the dappled air, alone, 

In perfect ring of glory bright. 

Guided her golden-wheeled throne ; 

The broad and burning eye of night. — 

And now the days were told aright. 

When Alpheus, from his sandy source. 

Should judge the champion's eager might, 

And mark of wheels the rolling force. — 

Nor yet a tree to cheer the sight 

The Cronian vale of Pelops bore — 

Obnoxious to the noonday weight 

Of summer suns, a naked shore. — 

But she who sways the silent sky, 

Latona's own equestrian maid 

Beheld how far Alcides stray'd. 

Bound on adventure strange and liigh ; 

Forth from the glens of Arcady 

To Istrian rocks in ice array'd 

He urged the interminable race, 

(Such penance had Eurystheus laid,) 

The golden-horn' d hind to chase. 

Which, grateful for Diana's aid, 

By her redeem' d from foul embrace, 

Old Atlas' daughter hallowed. — 

Thus, following where the quarry fled, 

Beyond the biting north he pass'd. 

Beyond the regions of the blest. 

And all unknoAvn to traveller's tread, 

He saw the blessed land at last. — 



TRANSLATIONS OF PINDAR. 45 

He stopp'd, he gazed with new deUght 
When that strange verdure met his sight; 
And soft desire inflamed his soul 
(Where twelve-times round the chariots roll) 
To plant with such the Pisan goal. 

But now, unseen to mortal eyes, 

He comes to Theron's sacrifice ; 

And with him brings to banquet there 

High-bosom' d Leda's knightly pair. — 

Himself to high Olympus bound, 

To these a latest charge he gave, 

A solemn annual feast to found, 

And of contending heroes round 

To deck the strong, the swift, the brave. — 

Nor doubt I that on Theron's head. 

And on the good Eumenides, 

The sons of Jove their blessing shed ; 

Whom still, with boimteous tables spread, 

That holy tribe delight to please ; 

Observing with religious dread 

The hospitable god's decrees. 

But, wide as water passeth earthy clay. 

Or sun-bright gold transcendeth baser ore ; 

Wide as from Greece to that remotest shore 

Whose rock-built pillars own Alcides' sway ; 

Thy fame hath pass'd thine equals ! — To explore 

The further ocean all in vain essay, 

Or fools or wise ; — here from thy perilous way 

Cast anchor here, my bark ! I dare no more ! — 



IV. 

TO PSAUMIS OF CAMARINA. 



Oh, urging on the tireless speed 
Of thunder's elemental steed. 
Lord of the world, almighty Jove I 



46 heber's poems. 



Since these thine hours have sent me forth 
The witness of thy champion's worth, 
And prophet of thine olive grove ; — 
And since the good thy poet hear, 
And hold his tmiefiil message dear ; — 
Saturnian Lord of Etna hill ! — 
Whose storm-cemented rocks encage 
The hundred-headed rebel's rage ; 
Accept with favourable will 
The Muses' gift of harmony ; 
The dance, the song, whose numbers high 
Forbid the hero's name to die, 
A crown of life abiding still ! — 

Hark ! round the car of victory. 
Where noble Psaumis sits on high, 

The cheering notes resound ; 
Who vows to swell with added fame 
His Camarina's ancient name ; 

With Pisan olive crown' d. — 
And thou, oh father, hear his prayer ! — 
For much I praise the knightly care 

That trains the warrior steed : — 
Nor less the hospitable hall 
Whose open doors the stranger call ; — 
Yet, praise I Psaumis most of all 

For wise and peaceful rede, 
And patriot love of liberty. — 
— What ? — do we weave the glozing lie ! — 
Then whoso list my truth to try, 

The proof be in the deed ! — 

To Lemnos' laughing dames of yore, 
Such was the proof Ernicus bore. 

When, matchless in his speed, 
All brazen-arm' d the racer hoar. 
Victorious on the applauding shore. 

Sprang to the proffer'd meed ; — 
Bow'd to the Queen his wreathed head ; — 



TRANSLATIONS OF PINDAR. 47 

" Thou seest my limbs are light," he said ; 

" And, lady, mayst thou know, 
That every joint is firmly strung. 
And hand and heart alike are young ; 
Though treacherous Time my locks among 

Have strew' d a summer snow !" — 



Y. 

TO THE SAME. 

Accept of these Olympian games the crown, 
Daughter of Ocean, rushy Oamarine ! — 
The flower of knightly worth and high renown, 
Which car-borne Psaumis on thy parent shrine 
(Psaumis, the patriot, whom thy peopled town 
Its second author owns,) with rite divine 
Suspends ! — His praise the twice six altars tell 
Of the great gods whom he hath feasted well 
With blood of bull ; the praise of victory. 
Where cars and mules and steeds contest the prizs 
And that green garland of renown to thee 
He hallows, virgin daughter of the sea ! 
And to his sire and household deities. — 
Thee, too, returning home from Pelops' land, 
Thee, guardian Pallas, and thy holy wood. 
He hails with song ; and cool Oanus' flood ; 
And of his native pool the rushy strand ; 
And thy broad bed, refreshing Hipparis. 
Whose silent waves the peopled city kiss ; 
That city which hath blest his bounteous hand 
Rearing her goodly bowers on high. — 
That now, redeem' d from late disgrace, 
The wealthy mother of a countless race, 
She lifts her front in shining majesty. — 



48 heber's poems. 



'Tis ever thus ! by toil, and pain, 
And cumbrous cost, we strive to gain 
Some seeming prize whose issues lie 
In darkness and futurity. 
And yet, if conquest croAvn our aim, 
Then, foremost in the rolls of fame, 
Even from the envious herd a forced applause we (jlaira 

cloud-enthroned, protecting Jove, 
Who sits the Cronian cliflFs above. 
And Alpheus' ample wave. 

And that dark gloom hast deign'd to love 

Of Ida's holy cave ! 
On softest Lydian notes to thee 

1 tune the choral prayer. 

That this thy town, the brave, the free, 
The strong in virtuous energy. 
May feel thine endless care. 

And, victor, thou, whose matchless might 

The Pisan wreath hath bound ; 
Still, Psaumis, be thy chief delight 

In generous coursers found. — 
Calm be thy latter age, and late 

And gently fall the stroke of fate. 

Thy children standing round ! 

And know, when favouring gods have given 

A green old age, a temper even. 

And wealth and fame in store, 

The task were vain to scale the heaven ; — 

— Have those immortals more ? — 



VI. 

TO AGESIAS OF SYRACUSE. 



Who seeks a goodly bower to raise, 

Conspicuous to the stranger's eye, | 

With gold the lintel overlays, 



TRANSLATIONS OF PINDAR. 49 

And clothes the porch in ivory. 

So bright, so bold, so wonderful, 

The choicest themes of verse I cull, 
To each high song a frontal high ! — 

But lives there one, whose brows around 

The green Olympian wreath is bound ; 

Prophet and priest in those abodes 

Where Pisans laud the sire of gods ; 

And Syracusa's denizen ? — 

Who, 'mid the sons of mortal men, 

While Envy's self before his name 

Abates her rage, may fitlier claim 

Whate'er a bard may yield of fame ? — 

For sure, to no forbidden strife. 

In hallow'd Pisa's field of praise. 

He came, the priest of blameless life ! — 
' Nor who in peace hath pass'd his days, 

Marring with canker sloth his might, 

May hope a name in standing fight 

Kor in the hollow ship to raise ! — 

By toil, illustrious toil alone, 

Of elder times the heroes shone ; 

And, bought by like emprize, to thee 

warrior priest, like honour be ; — 

Such praise as good Adrastus bore 

To him, the prophet chief of yore. 

When, snatch' d from Thebes' accursed fight, 

With steed and car and armour blight, 

Down, down he sank to earthy night. — 

When the fight was ended. 
And the sevenfold pyres 
AU their funeral fires 
In one sad lustre blended, 
The leader of the host 
Murmur' d mournfully, 
" I lament the eye 
Of all mine army lost ! — 



HEBER S POEMS. 



To gods and mortals dear, 

Either art he knew ; 

Augur tried and true, 

And strong to Avield the spear !" — 

And, by the powers divine. 

Such praise is justly thine. 
Oh Syracusian peer ! — 
For of a gentle blood thy race is sprung, 
As she shall truly tell, the muse of honey 'd tongue. 

Then yoke the mules of winged pace. 

And, Phintis, climb the car witli me ; 

For well they know the path to trace 

Of yonder victor's pedigree ! — 
Unbar the gates of song, unbar ! — 
For we to-day must journey far, 

To Sparta and to Pitane. — 

She, mournful nymph, and nursing long 

Her silent pain and virgin wrong. 

To Neptune's rape a daughter fair, 

Evadne of the glossy hair, 

(Dark as the violet's darkest shade,) 

In solitary sorrow bare. 

Then to her nurse the infant maid 

She weeping gave, and bade convey 

To high Phersana's hall away ; 

Where, woman-grown, and doom'd to prove 

In turn a god's disastrous love. 

Her charms allured the Lord of day. — 

Kor long the months ere, fierce in pride, 

The painful tokens of disgrace 

Her foster-father sternly eyed. 

Fruit of the furtive god's embrace. — 
He spake not, but with soul on flame, 
He sought th' imkno^vn ofi'ender's name. 

At Phoebus' Pythian dwelling-place. — 

But she, beneath the greenwood spray, 

Her zone of purple silk untied ; 



TRANSLATIONS OF PINDAR. 51 

And flung the silver clasp away 
That rudely press' d her heaving side ; 

While, in the solitary wood, 

Lucina's self to aid her stood, 
And Fate a secret force supplied. — 

But who the mother's pang can tell, 
As sad and slowly she withdrew. 
And bade her babe a long farewell. 
Laid on a bed of violets blue ? — 

When, ministers of Heaven's decree, 

(Dire nurses they, and strange to see !) 
Two scaly snakes of azure hue 

Watch'd o'er his helpless infancy, 

And, rifled from the mountain bee, 
Bare on their forky tongues a harmless honey-dew, — 

Swift roll the wheels ! from Delphos' home 
Arcadia's car-borne chief is come : 

But, ah, how changed his eye ! — 
His wrath is simk, and past his pride, 
" Where is Evadne's babe," he cried, 

"Child of the Deity r' 
'Twas thus the augur god replied, 
Nor strove his noble seed to hide ; 
And to his favour' d boy, beside, 

The gift of prophecy. 
And power beyond the sons of men 
The secret things of fate to ken. 

His blessing will supply. — 
But vainly, from his liegemen round. 

He sought the noble child ! 
Who, naked on the grassy ground. 

And nurtured in the wild. 
Was moisten' d with the sparkling dew- 
Beneath his hawthorn bower ; 
Where Mom her wat'ry radiance threw, 
Now golden bright, now deeply blue. 

Upon the violet flower. — 



52 heber's poems. 



From that dark bed of breathing bloom 

His mother gave his name ; 
And laraus, through years to come, 

Will live in lasting fame ; 
Who, when the blossom of his days 

Had ripen' d on the tree, 
From forth the brink where Alpheus strays, 
Invoked the god whose sceptre sways 
The hoarse resounding sea ; 
And, whom the Delian Isle obeys, 

The archer deity. — 
Alone amid the nightly shade. 
Beneath the naked heaven he pray'd. 
And sire and grandsire call'd to aid ; 
When lo, a voice that loud and dread 

Burst from the horizon free ; 
" Hither ! " it spake, " to Pisa's shore ! 
My voice, oh son, shall go before ; 
Beloved, follow me ! " 

So, in the visions of his sire, he went 
Where Cronium's scarr'd and barren brow 
Was red with morning's earliest glow 

Though darkness wrapp'd the nether element — 
There, in a lone and craggy dell, 
A double spirit on him fell, 
Th' unlying voice of birds to tell, 

And (when Alcmena's son should found 

The holy games in Elis crown' d,) 
By Jove's high altar evermore to dwell, 

Prophet and priest ! — From him descend 

The fathers of our valiant friend. 

Wealthy alike and just and wise. 

Who trod the plain and open way ; 

And who is he that dared despise 

With galHng taunt the Cronian prize, 

Or their illustrious toil gainsay, 

Whose chariots whiiding twelve times round 



TRANSLATIONS OP PINDAR. 53 

With burning wheels th' Olympian ground 

Have gilt their brow with glory's ray? 

For not the steams of sacrifice 

From cool CyUene's height of snow, 

Nor vainly from thy kindred rise 

The heaven-appeasing litanies 

To HermeSj who, to men below, 

Or gives the garland or denies : — 

By whose high aid, Agesias, know, 

And his, the thmiderer of the skies, 

The olive wreath hath bound thy brow ! — 

Arcadian ! Yes, a warmer zeal 

Shall whet my tongue thy praise to tell i 

I feel the sympathetic flame 

Of kindred love— a Theban I, 

Whose parent nymph from Arcady 

(Metope's daughter, Thebe) came. — 

Dear fountain goddess, warrior maid. 

By whose pure rills my youth hath pla^d ; 

Wlio now assembled Greece among. 

To car-borne chiefs and warriors strong, 

Have wove the many-coloured song. — 

Then, minstrel ! bid thy chorus rise 
To Juno, queen of deities, 
Parthenian lady of the skies ! 
For live there yet who dare defame 
With sordid mirth our country's name ; 
Who tax with scorn our ancient line, 
And call the brave uoeotians swine ? — 
Yet, -^neas, sure thy numbers high 
May charm their brutish enmity ; 
Bear herald of the holy muse. 
And, teeming with Parnassian dews, 
Cup of untasted harmony ! — 
That strain once more ! — The chorus raise 
To Syracusa's wealthy praise. 
And his the lord whose happy reign 



64 HEBER S POEMS. 



Controls Trinacria's ample plain, 

Hiero, the just, the wise, 

Whose steamy offeruigs rise 
To Jove, to Ceres, and that darhng maid, 

Whom, rapt in chariot bright. 

And horses silver- white, 
Down to his dusky bower the lord of hell convey'd ! 
Oft hath he heard the Muses' string resound 
His honour' d name ; and may liis latter days. 
With wealth, and worth, and minstrel garlands crown' d, 
Mark with no envious ear a subject praise. 
Who now from fair Arcadia's forest wide 
To Syracusa, homeward, from his home 
Returns, a common care, a common pride, — 
(And, whoso darkling braves the^ocean's foam. 
May safeliest moor'd with twofold anchor ride ;) 
Arcadia, Sicily, on either side 

Guard him with prayer ; — and thou who rulest the deep, 
Fair Amphitrite's lord ! in safety keep 
His tossing keel, — and evermore to me 
No meaner theme assign of poesy ! 



1 



HYMKS. 



ADVENT SUNDAY. 

MATT. XXI. 

HosANNA to the living Lord ! 
Hosanna to the incarnate Word ! 
Hosanna in the earth be said, 
And in the heaven which He hath made! I 
Hosanna ! 

Hosanna, Lord ! Thine angels cry ; 
Hosanna, Lord ! Thy saints reply ; 
Above, beneath us, and around. 
The dead and living swell the sound ; 
Hosanna i 

Oh, Master, with parental care. 
Return to this Thine house of prayer ! 
Assembled in Thy sacred name. 
Where two or three Thy promise claim ! 
Hosanna ! 

But, chiefest, in our empty breast, 
Eternal ! bid thy Spirit rest. 
And cleanse our secret soul, to be 
A temple pure, and worthy Thee ! 

Hosanna ! 

So in the last and dreadful day. 
When heaven and earth have pass'd away, 
Thy rescued flock, and freed from sin, 
Shall once agaui their song begin : 

Hosanna ! 



56 heber's poems. 



. SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

LUKE XXI. 

In the sun and moon and stars, 
Signs and wonders shall there be ; 

Earth shall quake with inward wars, 
Nations with perplexity. 

Soon shall ocean's hoary deep, 
Toss'd with stronger tempests, rise ; 

Wilder storms the mountain sweep, 
Louder thunder rock the skies. 

Evil thoughts shall shake the proud, 
Racking doubt and restless fear ; 

And, amid the thimder-cloud. 
Shall the Judge of men appear. 

But though from that awful face 
Heaven shall fade and earth shall fly^ 

Fear not ye. His chosen race. 
Your redemption draweth nigh ! 



THIRD SUNDAY IN ADYENT. 

MATT. XI. 

Oh Saviour, is Thy promise fled ? 

Nor longer might Thy grace endure. 
To heal the sick and raise the dead. 

And preach Thy gospel to the poor ? 

Come, Jesus ! come ! return again ; 

With brighter beam Thy servants bless. 
Who long to greet Thy perfect reign. 

And share Thy kingdom's happiness ! 

A feeble race, by passion driven. 



In darkness and in doubt we roam. 
And lift our anxious eyes to heaven, 
Our hope, our harbour, and our home ! 



HYMNS. 57 



Come, Jesus ! come ! and as of yore 
The prophet went to clear the way, 

A harbinger Thy feet before, 
A dawning to Thy brighter day : 

So now may grace, with heavenly shower, 
Our stony hearts for truth prepare ; 

Sow in our souls the seed of power, 
Then come ! and reap Thy harvest there ! 



FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADYENT. 

JOHN I. 

The Lord shall come ! the earth shall quakff 
The hills their fixed seat forsake ; 
And, withering, from the vault of night 
The stars shall pale their feeble light. 

The Lord shall come ! but not the same 
As once in lowly guise He came, 
A silent Lamb before His foes, 
A weary man, and full of woes. 

The Lord will come ! a dreadful form. 
With rainbow wreath and robes of storm, 
On cherub wings and wings of wind, 
Anointed Judge of human kind ! 

Can this be He who wont to stray 
A pilgrim on the world's highway ; 
Oppress'd by Power and mock'd by Pride ! 
God ! is this the Crucified? 

Go, tyrants ! to the rocks complain ! 
And seek the mountain's shade in vain ! 
But Faith, ascending from the tomb, 
Shall shouting sing — "The Lord is come !" 



68 HEBER S POEMS. 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 

Ofi Saviour, whom tMs holy mom 
Gave to our world below ; 

To wandering and to labour born, 
To weakness and to woe ! 

Incarnate Word ! by every grief, 
By each temptation tried. 

Who lived to yield our ills relief, 
And to redeem us died ! 

If, gaily clothed and proudly fed, 
In careless ease we dwell ; 

Remind us of Thy manger bed. 
And lowly cottage ceU ! 

If prest by penury severe, 
In envious want we pine. 

May Conscience whisper in our ear, 
A poorer lot was Thine ! 

From all the viewless snares of sin 
Preserve us firm and free ; 

As Thou, like us, hast grieved been, 
May we rejoice with Thee ! 



SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 

Lord of Mercy and of Might, 
Of mankind the Life and Light, 
Maker, Teacher, infinite — 
Jesus, hear and save ! 

Who, when sin's primaeval doom 
Gave creation to the tomb. 
Didst not scorn a virgin's womb — 
Jesus, hear and save ! 



HYMNS. 59 



Strong Creator, Saviour mild, 
Humbled to a mortal child, 
Captive, beaten, bound, reviled— 
Jesus, hear and save ! 

Throned above celestial things, 
Borne aloft on angels' wings. 
Lord of lords, and King of kings- 
Jesus, hear and save ! 

Soon to come to earth again. 
Judge of angels and of men. 
Hear us now, and hear us then- 
Jesus, hear and save ! 



INNOCENTS' DAY. 

Oh weep not o'er thy children's tomb, 

Oh Rachel, weep not so ! 
The bud is cropt by martyrdom. 

The flower in heaven shall blow ! 

Firstlings of faith ! the murderer's knifo 
Has miss'd its deadliest aim ; 

The God for wlioin they gave their life 
For them to suffer came ! 

Though evil were their days and few, 

Baptized in blood and pain. 
He knows them, whom tliey never knew. 

And they shall live again. 

Then weep not o'er thy children's tomb, 

Oh Fr.c'iel, weep not so ! 
The bud is cropt by martyrdom,. 

The flower in heaven shall blo^v ! 



2 B 



60 heber's poebis. 



EPIPHANY. 

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! 

Dawn on our darkness, and lend us tliiue aid I 
Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid 1 

Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are shining, 
Low lies His bed with the beasts of the stall, 

Angels adore Him in slumber reclining, 
Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all ! 

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion, 
Odours of Edom and offerings divine ? 

Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean, 
Myrrh from the forest and gold from the mine ? 

Vainly we offer each ample oblation ; 

Vainly with gold would His favour secure : 
Pticher by far is the heart's adoration ; 

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. 

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! 

Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid ! 
Star of the East, the horizon adorning. 

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid ! 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

No. I. — LUKE II. 

Abash'd be all the boast of Age ! 

Be hoary Learning dumb ! 
Expounder of the mystic page, 

Behold an Infant come ! 

Oh Wisdom, whose coequal power 

Beside th' Almighty stood. 
To frame, in natiure's earliest hour, 

The land, the sky, the flood ; 



61 



Yet didst not Thou disdain awhile 
An infant form to wear ; 

To bless Thy mother with a smile, 
And lisp Thy falter' d prayer. 

But, in thy Father's own abode, 
With Israel's elders round, 

In converse high with Israel's God, 
Thy chief est joy was found. 

So may our youth adore Thy name ! 

And, Teacher, deign to bless 
With fostering grace the timid flame 

Of early holiness ! 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 
No. II. 

By cool Siloam's shady fountain 

How sweet the lily grows ! 
How sweet the breath on yonder moimtain 

Of Sharon's dewy rose ! 

Lo such the child whose young devotion 

The paths of peace has trod ; 
Whose secret soul's instinctive motion 

Tends upwards to his God ! 

By cool Siloam's shady fountain 

The lily must decay ; 
The rose that blooms beneath the mountain 

Must shortly fade away. 

A little while, the bitter morrow 

Of man's maturer age 
Will shake the soul with cankering sorrow, 

And passion's stormy rage ! 



HEBER S POEMS. 



Oh Thou, whose every year untainted, 

In changeless virtue shone ! 
Preserve the flowers Thy grace hath planted. 

And keep them still Thine own ! 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

MATT. VIII. 

Lord ! whose grace, in power excelling, 
Wash'd the leper's stains away, 

Jesus ! from Thy holy dweUing, 
Hear us, help us, when we pray ! 

From the filth of vice and folly. 

From infuriate passion's rage. 
Evil thoughts and hopes unholy, 

Heedless youth and selfish age ; 

From the lusts whose deep pollution 

Adam's elder taint disclose, 
From the Tempter's dark intrusion. 

And from everlasting woes ; 

From the miser's cursed treasure, 
From the drunkard's jest obscene, 

From the world, its pomp and pleasure, 
Jesus ! Master ! make us clean ! 



BEFORE A COLLECTION MADE FOR THE 

SOCIETY FOR THE PROPAGATION 

OF THE GOSPEL. 

From Greenland's icy mountains, 

From India's coral strand, 
Where Afric's sunny fountains 

Roll down then' golden sand ; 



HYMIS"S. 63 



From many an ancient river, 
From many a palmy plain, 

They call us to deliver 
Their land from Error's chain ! 



What though the spicy breezes 

Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, 
Though every prospect pleases, 

And only man is vile : 
In vain with lavish kindness 

The gifts of God are strown, 
The Heathen, in his blindness, 

Bows down to wood and stone 1 

Can we, whose souls are lighted 

With wisdom from on high. 
Can we to men benighted 

The lamp of life deny ? 
Salvation ! oh. Salvation ! 

The joyful soimd proclaim, 
Till earth's remotest nation 

Has learn'd Messiah's name ! 

Waft, waft, ye winds. His story^ 

And you, ye waters, roll. 
Till, like a sea of glory. 

It spreads from pole to pole : 
TiU o'er our ransom' d nature. 

The Lamb for sinners slainj 
Redeemer, King, Creator, 

In bliss returns to reign ! 



MISCELLANEOirS. 



LINES, 

SPOKEN IN THE THEATRE, OXFORD, 
OF LORD GRENVILLE'S INSTALLATION AS CHANCELLOR, 

Ye viewless guardians of these sacred shades, 
Dear dreams of early song, Aonian maids ! — 
And you, illustrious dead ! whose spirits speak 
In each warm flush that tints the student's cheek, 
As, wearied with the world, he seeks again 
The page of better times and greater men ; 
If with pure worship we your steps pursue. 
And youth, and health, and rest forget for you, 
(Whom most we serve, to whom our lamp hm-ns bright 
Through the long toils of not ingrateful night,) 
Yet, yet be present ! — Let the worldly train 
Mock our cheap joys, and hate our useless strain, 
Intent on freighted wealth, or proud to rear 
The fleece Iberian or the pamper' d steer ; — 
Let sterner Science, with imwearied eye. 
Explore the circling spheres and map the sky ; 
His long-drawn mole let lordly Commerce scan. 
And of his iron arch the rainbow span : 
Yet while, in bm'ning characters imprest. 
The poet's lesson stamps the youthful breast ; 
Bids the rapt boy o'er suffering vu-tue bleed, 
Adore a brave or bless a gentle deed, 
And in warm feeling from the storied page 
Arise the saint, the hero, or the sage ; 
Such be our toil ! — Nor doubt we to explore 
The thorny maze of dialectic lore, 



MISCELLANEOUS. 65 



To climb the chariot of the gods, or scan 

The secret workings of the soul of man ; 

Upborne aloft on Plato's eagle flight, 

Or the slow pinion of the Stagyrite. — 

And those grey spoils of Herculanean pride. 

If aught of yet imtasted sweets they hide ; — 

If Padua's sage be there, or art have power 

To wake Menander from his secret bower. 

Such be our toil ! — Nor vain the labour proves, 

Which Oxford honours, and which Grenville loves ! 

— On, eloquent and firm ! — ^whose warning high 

Rebuked the rising surge of anarchy. 

When, like those brethren stars to seamen known, 

In kindred splendour Pitt and Grenville shone ; — 

On in thy glorious course ! not yet the wave 

Has ceased to lash the shore, nor storm forgot to rave. 

Go on ! and oh, while adverse factions raise 

To thy pure worth involuntary praise ; 

While Gambia's swarthy tribes thy mercies bless, 

And from thy counsels date their happiness ; 

Say (for thine Isis yet recalls with pride 

Thy youthful triumphs by her leafy side), 

Say, hast thou scorn d, 'mid pomp, and wealth, and power. 

The sober transports of a studious hour ? — 

No, statesman, no ! — thy patriot fire was fed 

From the warm embers of the mighty dead ; 

And thy strong spirit's patient gTasp combined 

The souls of ages in a single mind. — 

■ — By arts like these, amidst a world of foes. 

Eye of the earth, th' Athenian glory rose ; — 

Thus last and best of Romans, Brutus shone ; — 

Our Somers thus, and thus our Clarendon ; 

Such Cobham was ; — such, Grenville, long be thou, 

Our boast before, — our chief and champion now ! 



66 HEBER S POEMS. 



EPITAPH ON A YOUNG NAYAL OFFICER. 

DESIGNED FOR A TOMB IN A TOWN IN WALES. 

Sailor ! if vigour nerve thy frame, 

If to high deeds thy soiil is strung, 
Revere this stone that gives to fame 

The brave, the virtuous, and the young ! — 
For manly beauty deck'd his form. 

His bright eye beam'd with mental power ; 
Resistless as the winter storm. 

Yet mild as summer's mildest shower. — 
In war's hoarse rage, in ocean's strife, 

For skill, for force, for mercy known : 
Still prompt to shield a comrade's life, 

And greatly careless of his own. — 
Yet, youthful seaman, mourn not thou 

The fate these artless lines recall : 
No, Cambrian ! no, be thine the vow. 

Like him to live, like him to fall ! 
But, hast thou known a father's care. 

Who sorrowing sent thee forth to sea ; 
Pour'd for thy weal th' unceasing prayer, 

And thought the sleepless night on thee ? 
Has e'er thy tender fancy flown. 

When winds were strong and waves were high, 
Where, listening to the tempest's moan, 

Thy sisters heaved the anxious sigh ? 
Or, in the darkest hour of dread, 

'Mid war's wild din, and ocean's swell, 
Hast mourn'd a hero brother dead, 

And did that brother love thee well 1 
Then pity those whose sorrows flow 

In vain o'er Shipley's empty grave ! — 
— Sailor, thou weep'st, indulge thy woe ; 

Such tears will not disgrace the brave ! 



• 



iJ 



NOTES 



"PALESTINE." 

p. 3. Folds Ms ■lank wing. Alluding to the usual manner in which sleep 
is represented m ancient statues. See also Pindar, Pyth. I. v. 16, 17. 

p. 3. Ye warrior sons of Heaven. Authorities for these celestial warriors 
may be found, Josn. v. 13. 2 Kings vi. 2 2 Mace. v. 3. Ibid. xL Joseph. 
Ed. Huds. vi. p. 1282. 

p. 4. The seer. Moses. 

p. 4 Almotana's tide. Almotana Is the Oriental name for the Dead Sea, 
as Ardeni is for Jordan. 

p. 4. The robber riots, or the hermit prays. The mountains of Palestine 
are full of caverns, which are generally occupied in one or other of the 
methods here mentioned. 

p. 4. Those stormy seats the warrior Druses hold. The untamatle spirit, 
feodal customs, and atfection for Europeans, which distingxiish this extra- 
ordinary race, wlio boast themselves to be a remnant of the Crusadei's, 
are well described in Pag^s. Puget de S. Pierre compiled a small volume 
on their history ; Paris, 1763. 12mo. 

p. 4. Teach their pale despot's waning moon to fear. "The Turkish 
sultans, whose moon seems fast approaching to its wane." Sir W. Jones" 
first Disc, to the Asiatic Society. 

p. 5. Sidonian dyes and Lusitanian gold. The gold of the Tyrians 
chiefiy came from Portugal, which was probably their Tarshish. 

p. 5. And unrestrain'd the generous vintage flows. In the southern parts 
of Palestine the inhabitants reap their corn green, as they are not sure 
that it will ever be allowed to come to maturity. The oppression to which 
the cultivators of vineyards are subject throuehout the Ottoman empire 
is well known. 

p. 5. Arabia's parent. Hagar. 

p. 5. The guarded fountains shine. The watering-places are generally 
beset with Arabs, who exact toll from all comers. 

p. 5 Thy tents, Nebaioih, rise, and Kedar, thine I See Ammianus Mar- 
cellinus, lib. xiv. p. 43, Ed. Vales. 

p. 6. Smokes on Samaria's mount her scanty sacrifice. A miserable rem- 
nant of Samaritan worship still exists on Mount Gerizim. Maundrell re- 
lates his conversation with the high priest. 

p. 7. Or serve his altar with unhallow'd fire. AUuding to the fate of 
Nadab and Abihu. 

p. 7. Tlie mighty master of the ivory throne. Solomon. Ophir is by most 
geogra:phers placed in the Aurea Chersonesus. 

p. 7. Through Nature's mazes wander'd unconfined. The Arabian my- 
thology respecting Solomon is in itself so fascinating, is so illustrative of 
the present state of the country, and on the whole so agreeable to Scrip- 
ture, that it was judged improper to omit all mention of it, though its 
wildness might have operated as an objection to making it a principal ob- 
ject in the poem. 



t58 heber's poems. 



p. 7. And Tadmor thus, and Syrian Bailee rose. Palmyra (" Tadmor in 
the Desert") was really built by Solomon (1 Kings ix. ; 2 "Clu-on. viii.), and 
universal tradition marks him out, with great probability, as the founder 
of Balbec. Estakhar is also attributed to him by the Arabs. See tlie 
romance of " Vathek," and the various travels into the East, more parti- 
cularly Chardin's, in which Estakhar or Persepolis, the ancient capital of 
Persia, is an account of the wild local traditions just alluded to. VoL iL 
p. 190. Ed. Amst, 1835, 4to. 

p 8. Houseless Santon. They are real or affected madmen, pretending 
to extraordinary sanctity, who wander about the country, sleeping in caves 
or rains. 

p. 8. For thee his ivory load Behemoth hore. Behemoth is sometimes 
supposed to mean the elephant, in which sense it is here used. 

p. 8. And far Sofala teeru'd with golden ore. An African port to the 
south of Bab-el-mandeb, celebrated for gold mines. 

p. 8. View' d the descending flame, and bless' d the present God. "And when 
all the children of Israel saw how the fire came down, and the glory of the 
Lord upon the house, they bowed themselves with their faces to the 
ground upon the pavement, and worshipped." — 2 Chron. vii. 3. 

p. 10. And the pale parent drank, &c. Joseph, vi. p. 1275. Ed. Huds. 

p. 10. The stoic tyrant's philosophic pride. The Roman notions of hu- 
manity cannot have been very exalted when they ascribed so large a share 
to Titus. For the horrible details of his conduct during the siege of Jeru- 
salem and after its capture, the reader is referred to Josephus. When we 
learn that so many captives were crucified, and that after all was over, in 
cold blood and merriment, he celebrated his brother's birthday with 
similar sacrifices, we can hardly doubt as to the nature of that untold 
crime, which disturbed the dying moments of "the darling of the human 
race." After all, the cruelties of this man are probably softened in the 
high priest's narrative. The fall of Jerusalem nearly resembles that of 
Zaragoza, but it is a Morla who tells the tale. 

p. 11. Yon pompous shrine. The Temple of the sepulchre. 

p. 11. The British Queen. St Helena, who was, according to Camden, 
born at Colchester. See also Howel's Hist, of the World. 

p. 11. And pale Byzantium fear'd Medina's sword. The invasions of the 
civilised parts of Asia by the Arabian and Turkish Mahometans. 

p. 11. The wandering hermit waked the storm of war. Peter the Hermit. 
The world has been so long accustomed to hear the Crusades considerei 
as the height of frenzy and injustice, that to undertake their defence 
might be perhaps a hazardous task. We must, however, recollect, that 
had it not been for these extraordinary exertions of generous courage, tlie 
whole of Europe Avould perhaps have fallen, and Christianity been buried 
in the ruins. It was not, as Voltaire has falsely or wealdy asserted, a 
conspiracy of robbers ; it was not an unprovoked attack on a distant and 
inoffensive nation; it was a blow aimed at the heart of a most powerful 
and active enemy. Had not the Christian Idngdoms of Asia been estab- 
lished as a check to the Mahometans, Italy, and the scanty remnant of 
Christianity in Spain, must again have fallen into their power, and France 
herself have needed all the heroism and good fortune of a Charles Martel 
to deliver her from subjugation. 

p. 11. Tabaria's stream. Tabaria (a corniption of Tiberius) is the name 
used for the sea of Galilee in the old romances. 

p. 12. By northern Brenn or Scythian Tim ur led. Brennus and Tamerlane. 



NOTES. 69 



p. 12. There GauVs proud knights with loastful mien advance. The inso- 
lence of the French nobles twice caused the ruin of the army; once by 
refusing to serve under Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and again by reproaching 
the English with cowardice in St Louis's expedition to Egypt. See 
Knolles's History of the Turks. 

p. 12. Form the long line. The line (combat a-Ia-haie), according to Sir 
Walter Ealeigh, was characteristicof French tactics; as the column (herse) 
was of the English. The English at Crfeci were drawn up thirty deep. 

p. 12. Whose giant force Britannia's armies led. All the Biitish nations 
served under the same banner. 

Sono gl' Inglesi sagittarii, ed hanno, &c. 

— Gierusal. Lib. i. 44. 
Ireland and Scotland, it is necessary to observe, were synonymous. 

p. 12. Lords of the biting axe and beamy spear. The axe of Richard was 
very famous. See Warton's History of Ancient Poetry. 

p. 13. Courts the bright vision of descending power. " That great city, 
the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory 
of God."— Rev. xxL 10. 



" EUROPE." 

p. 15. In Dresden's grove the dewy cool I sought. The opening lines of 
this poem were really composed in the situation (the Park of Dresden) 
and under the influence of the feelings which they attempt to describe. 
The disastrous issue of King Frederick's campaign took away fi'om the 
author all inclination to continue them, and they remained neglected till 
the hopes of Europe were again revived by the illustriovxs efforts of the 
Spanish people. 

p. 16. Pratzen's Mil. The hill of Pratzen was the point most obstinately 
contested in the great battle which has taken its name from the neigh- 
bouring to^vn of Austerlitz ; and here the most dreadful slaughter took 
place, both of French and Russians. 

p. 16. And, red with slaughter. Freedom's humbled crest. It is necessary 
perhaps to mention, that, by freedom, in this and in other passages of the 
present poem, political liberty is understood, in opposition to the usurpa- 
tion of any single European state. 

p. 16. Gallia's vaunting train. The confidence and shameful luxury ol 
the French nobles, during the Seven Years' War, are very sarcastically 
noticed by Templeman. 

p. 18. Where youthful Lewis led. Prince Levas Ferdinand of Prussia, 
who fell gloriously with almost the whole of his regiment. 

p. 18. By her whose charms, &c. The Queen of Prussia; beautiful, un- 
fortunate, and unsubdued by the severest reverses. 

p. 19. The covering cherub, dec. " Thou art the anointed cherub that 
coverest."— Addressed to Tyre, by Ezekiel, xxviii. 14, 

p. 22. The Moslem wasters of their bleeding land. The Asturians, whc 
Wider Pelagius first opposed the career of Mahometan success. 

p. 22. Thy spear-encircled croion, Asturia. " La couronne de f er de Dom 
Pelage, — cette couronne si simple raais si glorieuse, dont chaque fleuvon 
est forme du fer d'une lance arrachee aux Chevaliers Maures que ce hercs 
avoit faits tomber sous ses coups." — Roman de Dom Ursino le Navarin 
Tressan, torn. ix. 52. 



70 HEBER S P0EM3. 



p. 23. Rude, ancient lays of Spain's heroic time. See the two elegant 
specimens given by Bishop Percy in his Reliques; and the more accurate 
translations of Mr Eodd, in his Civil Wars of Granada. 

p. 23. Ilim in Xeres' carnage fearless found. The Gothic monarchy in 
Spain was overthrown by the Mussulmans at the battle of Xeres, the 
Christian army being defeated with dreadful slaughter, and the death of 
their king, the unhappy and licentious Roderigo. Pelagius assembled the 
small band of those fugitives who despised submission, amid the moun- 
tains of the Asturias, under the name of King of Oviedo. 

p. 23. Of that chaste king, &c. Alonzo, sumamed the Chaste, with 
ample reason, if we believe his historians : who defeated, according to the 
Spanish romances, and the graver authority of Mariana, the whole force 
3f Charlemagne and the twelve peers of France, at Eoncesvalles. Bertrand 
del Carpio, the son of Alonzo's sister Ximena, was his general, and ac- 
cording to Don Quixote, put the celebrated Orlando to the same death as 
Hercules inflicted on Antaeus. His reason was, that the nephew of 
Charlemagne was enchanted, and, like Achilles, only vulnerable in the 
heel, to guard which he wore always iron shoes. — See Mariana, L viL c 
xi. ; Don Quixote, book L c. i. ; and the notes on Mr Southey's Chronicle 
of the Cid. 

p. 23. And chiefesi him who rear'd his banner tall, &c. Rodrigo Diaz 
of Biva, surnamed the Cid by the Moors. — See Mr Southey's Chronicle. 

p. 23. Red Buraba's field, and Lugo. — Buraba and Lugo were renovncd 
scenes of Spanish victories over the Moors, In the reigns of Bermudo, or, 
as his name is Latinized, Veremundus, and Alonzo the Chaste. Of Lugo 
the British have since obtained a melancholy knowledge. 

p. 23. Tlascala. An extensive district of Mexico. Its inhabitants wei-e 
the first Indians who submitted to the Spaniards under Cortez. 

p. 23. Her captive king. Francis I., taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia. 

p. 23. Ton Beetle skies. Andalusia forms a part of the ancient Hispania 
Boetica, 
p. 24. Roncesvalles' vales. See the fonner note on Alonso the Chaste. 

p. 25. Ore the poised balance, trembling still with fate. This line is imi- 
tated from one in Mr Roscoe's spirited verses on the commencement of 
the French revolution. 

p. 25. One Saguntum. The ancient siege of Saguntum has been now 
rivalled by Zaragoza. 



p. 26. Bethulia's matron. Judith. 



"THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA." 

p. 28. Siwah. Oasis. — Sennaar Meroe. 

p. 28. Shangalla. The black tribes, whom Bruce considers as the abori- 
ginal Nubians, are so called. For their gigantic stature, and their custom 
of ornamenting themselves and their houses with the spoils of the elephant, 
see the account he gives of the person and I'esidence of one of their chiefs, 
whom he visited on his departure from Ras el Feel. 

p. 28. Emeralds. The emerald, or whatever the ancients dignified by 
the name of smaragdus, is said to have been found in great quantities in 
the mountain now called Gebel Zumrud (the Mount of Emeralds). 



NOTES. 71 



THE TRANSLATIONS OF PINDAR. 

•p. 34. The. fourth, with that tormented three. The three were Sisyphus, 
Tityus, and Ixion. The author of the Odyssey, or, at least, of that passage 
which describes the punishments of Tantalus, assigns him an eternity oi 
hunger, thirst, and disappointment. The impending rock of Pindar is 
perhaps a less appropriate, but surely a more picturesque mode of punish- 
ment. 

p. 35. Car-horne Pisa's royal maid. (Enomaus, Icing of Pisa, had promised 
his daughter, the heiress of his estates, in marriage to any warrior who 
should excel him in the chariot-race — on condition, however, that the can- 
didates should stake their lives on the issue. Thirteen had essayed and 
perished before Pelops. 

p. 36. Sleeps beneath the piled ground. Like all other very early tombs, 
the monument of Pelops was a barrow or earthen mound. The spot is 
very accurately pointed out, and such works are not easily obliterated. 

p. 37. God, who heholdeth thee and all thy deeds. The solemnity of this 
prayer contrasted with its object, that Hiero might again succeed in the 
chariot-race, is ridiculous to modern ears. I do not indeed believe that 
the Olympic and other games had so much importance attached to them 
by the statesmen and wamors of Greece as is pretended by the sophists 
of later ages; but where the manners are most simple, public exhibitions, 
it should be remembered, are always most highly estimated, and religious 
prejudice combined with the ostentation of wealth to give distinction to 
the Olympic contests. 

p. 38. The flower of no ignoble race. Theron was a descendant of (Edipus, 
and consequently of Cadmus. His family had, through a long line of an- 
cestors, been remarkable, both in Greece and Sicily, for misfortune ; and 
he was himself unpopular with his subjects and engaged in civil war. 

p. 40. He whom none may name. In the original " a certain nameless 
person." The ancients were often scrupulous about pronouncing the 
names of their gods, particularly those who presided over the region of 
future hopes and fears; a scruple corresponding with the Rabbinical 
notions of the ineffable Word. The pictures which follow present a 
striking discrepancy to the mythology of Homer, and of the general herd 
of Grecian poets, whose Zeus is as far inferior to the one supreme divinitj' 
of Pindar, as the religion of Pindar himself falls short of the clearness and 
majesty of Revelation. The connection of these Eleusinian doctrines with 
those of Hindustan is in many points sufficiently striking. Southey and 
Pindar might seem to have drank at the same source. 

p. 41. Nor Jove has Thetis' prayer denied. I know not why, except for 
his brutality to the body of Hector, Achilles is admitted with so much 
difficulty into the Islands of the Blessed. That this was considered in the 
time of Pindar as sufficient to exclude him without particular intercession, 
shows at least that a great advance had been made in moral feeling since 
the days of Homer. 

p. 42. There are who hate the minstreVs power. It was not likely that 
Pindar's peculiarities should escape criticism, nor was his temper such as 
to bear it with a very even mind. He treats his rivals and assailants with 
at least a sufficient portion of disdain, as servile adherents to rule, and 
mere students without genius. Some of their sarcasms passed, however, 
into proverbs. 

p. 43. Whose sapling root from Scythian down. There seems to have 
been in all countries a disposition to place a region of peculiar happiness 
and fertility among inaccessible mountains, and at the source of their 
principal rivers. Perhaps indeed the Mount Meru of Hindtistan, the 
blameless Ethiopians at the head of the Nile, and the happy hyperborean 
regions at the source of the Ister, are only copies of the garden and rivei 
of God ifl Edeo. Some truth is undoubtedly mixed with the tradition 



72 heber's poems. 



here preserved by Pindar. The olive was not indigenous to Greece, and 
its first specimens were planted near Pisa. That they ascribed its intro- 
duction to their universal hero Hercules, and derived its stock from the 
land of the blessed, need not be wondered at by those who know the impor- 
tance of such a present. 

p. 44. Old Atlas' daughter hallowed. Taygeta. 

p. 46. Such was the proof Ernicus hare. Ernicus was one of the Argonauts, 
who distinguished himself in the games celebrated at Lemnos by its hospi- 
table queen Hypsipile, as victor in the foot-race of men clothed in armour. 
He was prematurely gray-headed, and therefore derided by the Lemnian 
women before he had given this proof of his vigour. It is not impossible 
tliat Psaumis had the same singularity of appearance. 

There is a sort of playfulness in this ode, which would make us suspect 
that Pindar had no very sincere respect for the character of Psaumis. 
Perhaps he gave offence by it ; for the following poem to the same cham- 
pion is in a very different style. 

p. 47. Rearing her goodly towers on high. Camarina had been lately de- 
stroyed by fire, and rebuilt in a great measure by the liberality of Psaumis. 

p. 49. To him, the prophet chief. The prophet chief is Amphiaraus, who 
was swallowed up by the earth before the attack of Polynices and his 
allies on Thebes, either because the gods determined to rescue his virtues 
fi-om the stain of that odious conflict ; or, according to the sagacious 
Lydgate, because, being a sorcerer and a pagan "byshoppe," the time 
of his compact was expired, and the infernal powers laid claim to him. 

p. 50. And, Phintis, climb the car with me. Agesias had been victor in 
the Apene, or chariot drawn by mules; Phintis was probably his charioteer. 

p. 51. And flung the silver clasp away. I venture in the present instance 
to translate "KaXmus a clasp, because it was undoubtedly used for the 
stud or buckle to a horse's bit, as "xaA.5ra^£/w signifies to run by a- 
horse's side, holding the bridle. The "xaXt/|" too, appended to the 
belt of Hercules, should seem, from the manner in which Herodotus 
mentions it, to have been a clasp or stud. 

p. 53. Cool Oyllene's height of snow. Cyllene was a mountain in Arcadia, 
dedicated to Mercury. 

p. 53. To Juno, queen of deities. Such passages as this appear to prove, 
first, that the Odes of Pindar, instead of being danced and chanted by a 
chorus of hired musicians and actors, in the absurd and impossible man- 
ner pretended by the later Grecian writers (whose ignorance respecting 
their own antiquities is in many instances apparent), were recited by the 
poet himself sitting, and accompanied by one or more musicians, such- as 
the Theban ^neas whom he here compliments. Secondly, what will ac- 
count at once for the inequalities of his style and the rapidity of his transi- 
tions, we may infer that the Dirca^an swan was, often at least, an "im- 
provisatore." I know not the origin of the Boeotian agnomen of swine. 
In later times we find their region called " vervecum patria." 

p. 54. Marie loith no envious ear a subject praise. Either the poet was 
led by his vanity to ascribe a greater consequence to his verses than they 
really possessed, when he supposes tha<- the praise of Agesias may move 
his sovereign to jealousy; or we may infer from this little circumstance, 
that the importance attached to the Olympic prize has not been so greatly 
overrated by poets and antiquaries, and that it was indeed " a gift more 
valuable than a hundred tropliies." 



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